


Between the bars

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bars and Pubs, Bartender Mickey Milkovich, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Flirting, Fluff, Homophobic Language, M/M, Out of Character Mickey Milkovich, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Swearing, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: When Ian agrees to accompany a guy he's been dating to The Big Gay Valentine's Getaway at Lake Geneva, he anticipated a weekend full of cliche romantic bullshit. What he found instead would change him forever.***Mickey thinks Valentine's day is a joke. The only thing he's looking forward to working this event are the massive tips, and easy dick. Of course, that's not at all what he gets.





	1. Big Gay Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure what i'm doing. valentine's day has inspired me, clearly. this is a bit fluffier than my usual fare. i hope that's not a turn off.

"You're really driving all the way to Lake Geneva to spend the weekend with him? I didn't know it was that serious." 

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. He didn't bother to look up, keeping his eyes trained on his duffel bag as he folded his green dress shirt. He placed the shirt among his other clothes before shouldering past his brother to get to his closet. 

"Ian, are you listening to me?" Lip asked, dropping down on Ian's bed and pulling a cigarette from the pack on Ian's nightstand. 

Ian returned from the closet with a couple pairs of pants, tossing them in the bag. "It's just a weekend, Lip." Ian laughed, holding his hand out for the butt. Lip passed it over, regarding his brother for a moment. 

"It's not just a weekend, though. It's Valentine's Day weekend. At a high end resort on Lake Geneva. Some swanky gay weekend getaway. I didn't even think you and Luke were that serious."

"Okay, one: his name is Leo." Ian said, giving his brother a playful glare. "You know his name is Leo." Lip just shrugged, snatching the cigarette back from Ian's fingers. "And secondly, we're not that serious. But it's a free weekend away. Have you seen that resort's website? Skiing, spa, heated pool, three different bars and restaurants. Why wouldn't I go?" 

"I guess." Lip replied. "Just think you might be giving this dude the wrong impression." 

Ian laughed, dropping some sweats into his bag before wandering into his small adjacent bathroom. "You are such a commitment-phobe, Lip. Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy. I've been dealing with men all on my own for twenty five years, I think I can handle one guy for one weekend." 

Lip laughed, standing from Ian's bed. "Sure thing, chief. But don't come crying to me when he pulls some over the top homo proposal this weekend. How do the gays even propose? Unicorn with a ring tied to its horn? Broadway chorus line? Magic Mike style dance routine? Does Cher have to be involved?" 

"Fuck off, Lip." Ian laughed, tossing a pair of rolled up socks at his brother's head. Lip chuckled when the socks bounced off his forehead. "Gay guys propose like everyone else, and Leo and I are not nearly that serious. I've only been seeing him for a few months." 

"Yeah, but he's the marrying type." Lip replied, all humor gone from his tone. "Right?" 

Ian sighed, finally realizing where Lip was going with this conversation. "Yes, Lip. He was engaged once before. It didn't work out." 

"And now he's your man." Lip replied, eyebrows raised. "See where I'm going with this?" 

"He's not my man, Lip. He's a guy I'm seeing who is taking me away for the weekend. No more, no less. Okay?" 

"Yeah, okay." Lip said, though his tone implied he did not in fact agree. He grabbed his coat and made his way toward the door. "But I have a weird feeling, just wanted to put my objection on the record." 

"Duly noted, asshole, now go home to your own girlfriend, so I can leave already." Ian made a shooing motion with his hand, grinning as his brother flipped him off. Lip made his way out of the apartment, Ian right behind him.

Ian hitched his bag higher on his shoulder as he descended the narrow staircase. His apartment is small, on the second floor of a two family house on South Wentworth Street. The sloped ceilings make it almost impossible to stand up straight, and the floors are buckled. The apartment is drafty and his landlord lives downstairs but never does a god damn thing around the house. The apartment may be a shithole, but it's his shithole, and he kinda loves it. He lives about twenty minutes from the family house on South Homan, but it feels like worlds away, and he appreciates the distance. 

It's not like he wants to get away from his family. He spends a lot of time at his childhood home. But he does like to have his own space, away from the chaos and constant noise of the Gallagher house.  


Ian appreciates the orderly calm of his life these days. It wasn't always like that for him. He had a rough few years when he was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when he was seventeen. He'd been resistant to the diagnosis, certain the doctors and his family had it all wrong. He ran away, positive that Fiona and his psychiatrists were full of shit. Trying to stifle him, hold him back. He ended up on the run with Monica, his unmediated Bipolar mother. He'd seen some crazy shit. Done a lot of things he's not proud of. Things that disgust him to this day. 

When he'd crawled home with his tail between his legs, he realized two things. One, he was sick, and needed help. And two, there was something to be said for order. For quiet. For calm. 

So Ian had thrown himself into his 'recovery'. He'd gone to therapy, got his meds right. He took a few classes at Malcolm X, got a nice quiet office job at an accounting firm downtown. He's a glorified secretary, but he's good at it. He's got a cubicle now. He's got an inspiration quotes calendar, and a few of those weird Funko Pop dolls, a bonsai tree. It's not his dream job or anything, but it's more than he ever thought he'd have, and it works for the time being so he's grateful. 

That's where he met Leo. Leo was an attorney for Ian's company. He'd come into the office one day to finalize some paperwork, caught Ian's eye over the water cooler. How cliche is that? But polite conversation morphed into after work drinks, which turned into some kind of semi-regular dating. 

Leo's a good guy. He just got out of a relationship when Ian met him, and wasn't looking for anything serious, which is fine by Ian, since he's not looking for that shit either. It's just fun for fun's sake. They aren't boyfriends, since they've never discussed it, but neither of them are seeing anyone else.

When Leo had suggested they go up to Lake Geneva for Valentine's Day, Ian had been wary. They weren't together, they were supposed to be just having fun. But it was a free weekend away from Chicago. And it was supposed to be this massive Gay Extravaganza. Ian's never experienced anything like that. So he's going to try to enjoy himself, and hope that Leo's not reading too much into this. 

Lip's words are ringing in his head as he steers his Toyota toward Leo's north side loft. 

He really hopes Leo doesn't turn this weekend into so tired, cliche Valentine's bullshit. Ian's not that type of gay. Romantic gestures are for fools and straight girls. 

 

***

 

"I can't believe you agreed to this shit." 

"Fuck off, man." Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. He took a long drag off the joint between his fingers before passing it to Dexter. "It's good money, and it's pretty much 48 hours of guaranteed dick." 

Dexter laughed, shaking his head as he plucked the joint from Mickey's fingers, bringing it to his own lips. 

"Besides, you agreed too." Mickey reminded him, leaning forward to grab his beer off the coffee table. 

"Yeah, but this is my kinda shit." Dexter replied. "I love big romantic gestures and over the top parties. You hate all that." 

"I do hate that shit." Mickey laughed, nodding. "But I love good tips, and good dick. And I'll be getting plenty of both up there." 

Dexter laughed, nodding. "You always do, you slut." 

"Who's a slut?" Jared asked, walking out of Mickey's bathroom. He wiped his hands on his jeans like a heathen before wedging himself in between the two men on the couch. 

"Mick is." Dexter replied. 

"Oh fuck off." Mickey laughed, leaning over Jared to smack Dexter's head. "We work gay clubs, what's the point of even going in if we're not gonna get off?" 

"Um, the paycheck?" Jared replied, earning himself a chuckle from his two friends. 

"Yeah, sure. But if I just wanted a paycheck, I'd tend bar at one of those high end clubs downtown. Way more money up there, especially on Ladies Night. But I don't wanna waste my time getting ogled by nasty bitches, when I can get paid and get my dick sucked. See what I'm saying?" 

"But Mickey, this is Valentine's Day weekend." Jared whined, taking a hit off the joint before putting it out in the ashtray. "You know, love? This weekend is going to be all committed couples, professing their love to each other."

"Did you even listen when Aaron told us about this job?" Mickey asked, giving his friend an exasperated look. Aaron was the owner of the two gay clubs Mickey tended bar at, along with his husband Jace. Dexter and Jared were his coworkers, and the closest thing to friends he's ever had. 

When all he got from Jared was a blank look, Mickey chuckled, glancing toward Dexter. "And you? Do you know what this weekend is, Dex?" 

Dexter just tilted his head to the side, confused. 

"Jesus, I'm surrounded by idiots." Mickey laughed. "Aaron said that this weekend is not just for boring couply shit. The weekend is geared toward gay men, period. Single, taken, looking, whatever. Aaron and Jace are going to have three separate bars set up around the resort all weekend. One for guys looking to find 'the one' - with speed dating and get-to-know you events, shit like that. The second spot will be for couples. With slow dancing and more than one proposal, I'm sure. It's gonna be vomit-inducing romantic bullshit. And the last club, my personal favorite, will be for the single dudes. Guys just looking for an orgasm. No romance, no expectations. A place for guys like me to have some fun, without the bullshit of the holiday getting in the way." 

Dexter laughed, swinging his arm around Mickey's shoulder. "You are dead inside, aren't you Mick?" 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Mickey asked, shoving Dexter off of him.

"I think he means that you don't seem to be in the spirit of the holiday. Y'know, love, romance?" Jared said, shrugging. 

"Fuck Valentine's Day." Mickey scoffed. "It's a made up holiday for the greeting card companies to make money off poor schmucks like you two. You think this bullshit means anything? It's just an excuse to buy shit you for people you don't really like and say shit you don't mean." 

"Mickey, some people do fall in love, you know." Jared replied. "They fall in love and then shit like this means something. Doing something nice for someone you care about, showing the world what they mean to you." 

"Yeah, no thanks." Mickey said, grimacing. "I'm not interested in all that. I don't want a boyfriend, and I sure as shit don't want to feel like I have to claim anyone in a room full of queers." 

Dexter laughed, grabbing his beer. "I'd like to propose a toast." he said, eyeing his friends until they both picked up their drinks. Mickey's eyebrows were high on his forehead, waiting for whatever stupid bullshit Dexter had to say. "To Valentine's Day. Here's hoping Cupid hits Mickey right in the ass with his arrow. I'd kill to see our boy go from 'fuck love' to 'fuck, I'm in love."

"Cheers!" Jared squealed, beer up. 

"Don't hold your breath, homo." Mickey laughed, clinking his bottle with his friends'. "That shit only happens in fairy tales." 

 

***

 

"This is going to be just lovely." Leo says for what has to be the sixth time. Ian fights the urge to roll his eyes as he steers them through the parking lot of the Lake Geneva Resort & Spa. Ian pulled his Camry into a spot by the door. The actual weekend events don't start until 7 pm, but the resort is already teeming with gay men. Ian watches them coming and going from the front door as Leo gathers his things from the back seat. 

The resort is big, but feels intimate in a way Ian can't really articulate. It's not a huge building, it's a collection of smaller buildings, all clustered together around the lake shore. The main building is in the center, with tall glass walls and interesting architectural touches. Ian eyes a steel spindle, craning his head back to see it twisting elegantly around the entryway like a vine. 

Beyond the main building, Ian can see other smaller buildings, a barn, and the ski lift. He cast his eyes along the outdoor space, taking it all in. On the other side of the parking lot is the Lake Geneva. It's winter, so the lake is mostly ice. No one will be doing any skating, however. Ian can see a bit of white water cresting between sheets of ice, little birds tap dancing along the surface. The lake is surrounded by barren trees and rocky outcroppings. In the distance is a gazebo, nestled right up against the shore of the lake. The sun glitters off the glass of the structure, reflecting back to the lake like a kaleidoscope. It's beautiful.

Ian watches the couples meandering around the front of the resort. He'd read up on the weekend event when Leo had suggested they attend. "Big Gay Valentine's Day" is an event run by Twilight Productions, and it's been a big deal in the Chicago gay community for years now. Twilight Productions is owned and operated by some well connected gay couple that owns several bars in Boystown. 

Ian doesn't hit the bars all that much anymore. It's not that he's grown out of it or anything, but with work and family obligations, and Leo, Ian just doesn't have the time to hit the clubs like he used to.  
He's actually kinda excited about this weekend, because the website said that Twilight is going to have three separate bar areas set up around the resort, catering to all types of men. The bars are all going to be named after birds for some reason. Ian can't recall the names, but he's curious what they will have to offer. 

The men grab their bags and make their way toward the resort's entrance. Ian opens the frosted glass door and held it for Leo. Leo breezes past him like Ian's staff and not his date. Ian does roll his eyes this time, entering the lobby of the resort and following Leo to the front desk. 

There is a woman seated behind a low white wall. For some reason, Ian didn't expect that. He supposes it was silly of him to assume the entire resort would be staffed with gay men, just because they are hosting a gay event. 

"Welcome to Lake Geneva Resort and Spa. My name is Kelly, how can I help you?" the woman behind the desk smiles up at them, hands poised over the keyboard. 

Ian holds in a chuckle at her programmed greeting. Leo leans against the desk, grinning down at the receptionist. "I have a reservation for the weekend. Leo Mechum." 

The receptionist starts typing, her eyes flicking from her computer to Leo and back again. "Ah, yes. Here you are. Reservation for two in one of our studio suites." she continues typing, not bothering to look up. "If you go back out the way you came, you will see a small paved path along the perimeter of the parking lot. Follow that path until you get to a group of buildings with a "Studio Suites" sign out front. That will be you. You will be staying in the Oak building, suite number 11." she finally glances up, handing Leo an envelope. "You are prepaid for the weekend, which is all inclusive. Drinks, dinner as well as any of the activities being put on by Twilight." she gave Leo and Ian a little wink, like they were all in on some big secret. "You will find a list of the weekend's activities in your suite. Feel free to participate in all of them, or none. A lot of our guests prefer to celebrate Valentine's Day in private." the receptionist's eyes were dancing with something akin to teasing. Ian gave her a small smile, nodding before turning to follow Leo back out of the main building and toward the path. 

Ian was curious what was going on in the main building. While they were checking in, Ian caught a glimpse of one of the many clubs the promoter had set up. Ian was admittedly curious as to what kind of entertainment would be offered at a gay Valentine's getaway. The quick glance Ian had at the room had him intrigued. 

"C'mon, Ian." Leo called over his shoulder as he made his way quickly down the path. "I want to put this stuff away and get settled in." 

Ian picked up his pace, much more interested in checking out the resort than putting his damn clothes away. He followed closely behind Leo, his head swiveling around as he tried to take in all the activity going on around him. The closer they got to the collection of buildings, the more people Ian could see wandering around. 

There were men everywhere, from what looked like all different age groups and social circles. It was cold outside, but you wouldn't know that looking around this place. Ian himself was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a heavy pea coat, with combat boots and a thick scarf. He is regretting not wearing his hat, his ears hurt from the constant wind blowing from across the lake. 

Ian hurried behind Leo, taking stock of all the men he saw along his way. They seemed to come in two distinct sets. Ian saw quite a few couples, like him and Leo. There were men holding hands, dressed like they were getting ready to go skiing. Heavy winter coats and knit hats, big clunky boots. Then there was another set of men, all decked out like they were hitting the bars. Tight pants, sparkly shirts, impeccable eye make up. He even saw a couple dudes in full drag. Ian wonders what kind of events could be going on in the middle of the day. He wonders where those guys are going, and suddenly feels like he's missing out on something. It was obvious to Ian which of these groups were the single guys, and which were the ones in committed relationships. Ian remembers reading that this event wasn't geared toward couples. It was supposed to be an inclusive event, with activities for single men as well as couples. 

Ian is hit with a sudden urge to check out the singles events. He's not sure where it comes from, but the idea of spending the whole weekend following Leo from one boring activity to the next sounds very unappealing to him.

"Ian!" Leo barks, turning his head as he steps up to their suite. "Come on! I'm cold." 

Ian nods, but says nothing as Leo slides the key card through the slot on above the doorknob. He shoulders his way inside, Ian right behind him. 

Ian smiles as he takes in the space. The room is small, but well appointed. From his spot in the narrow hallway he has a straight shot through the room to the sliding glass doors on the other side. The wilderness beyond the glass looks gorgeous, and Ian can't help but wish it were summer. Having breakfast on that deck would be wonderful. 

He steps further into the room, casting his eyes along the space. The far wall is all glass, one giant window, punctuated by a door on the left that leads out to the deck. Ian can see a little bistro set sitting on the deck, covered in a thin layer of snow. 

There is a small living area right in front of Ian. A modern looking blue couch and a leather ottoman are tucked into the right side of the room. On the left is a small dining table and the kitchenette. Everything is clean and modern. From the mosaic tile in the kitchen to the stainless steel appliances, the entire space is classy and chic. The room is dominated by the bed, which sits across from the kitchenette and parallel to the wall of windows. Ian sets his bag on the bed before dropping down on the mattress himself. 

God, it's so soft. The quilts smell like lavender and the scent soothes Ian. He smiles at Leo, patting next to him on the bed. "C'mere." 

Leo gives Ian a small smile, shaking his head. "We should unpack." 

Ian frowns, but nods. "Okay...." 

So much for starting the weekend with romance. 

Ian watches Leo move around the space, pulling out drawers and unzipping his suitcase. Ian follows suit and soon they are unpacked and Leo seems more content. 

"Grab that packet." Leo says, finally sitting next to Ian on the bed. Ian turns to look where Leo is pointing. On the nightstand is a small folder. Ian reaches for it, handing it over to Leo. 

Leo opens it and Ian leans over his shoulder to read whatever it says. 

'Welcome to The Big Gay Valentine's Day Weekend, brought to you by Twilight Productions and Lake Geneva Resort & Spa. Thank you for choosing to spend your holiday with us. The three-day event offers many different activities, catering to all walks of life for the modern gay man.  
Spend time skiing or lounging by the pool. Watching the sun set from our observation deck or dancing the night away in one of our three nightclubs. We have endless opportunities to fulfill all your romantic fantasies. Dine at our four star restaurant, or have our award winning cuisine delivered to your villa for a more intimate dining experience.  
It is our pleasure to host you this weekend, we hope you take advantage of all the resort has to offer. Please call the front desk with any questions, by pressing 2 on your provided telephone.  
Thank you,  
Aaron and Jace Miller, owners and operators of Twilight Productions." 

Leo reads the words in a strange voice, like he's an announcer for a game show or something. Ian chuckles a little at his absurdity. 

"Sounds like a lot of fun." Ian says, taking the packet from Leo and putting it back on the nightstand. "So the three clubs are only for this one weekend? Like a special set up?" 

"From what I hear, only one of them is actually a club for the rest of the year. They turn a couple event rooms into nightclubs just for this weekend. From what Barry at work was telling me, they have a room for singles looking for love, couples like us in search of a romantic evening, and the last one, which I don't see us patronizing." 

"Why?" Ian asked, suddenly intrigued. If Leo wasn't interested, it was probably fun. 

The thought gives Ian pause, but he lets it slide over him and fade away. 

"Because rumor has it it's a lot like the Cellblock. Are you familiar with that bar in Boystown? That same gay couple owns it. Disgusting. Just an excuse to grind on half naked strangers and put narcotics up your nose." Leo sounds utterly disgusted, but Ian feels an odd pang of nostalgia. He kinda misses those days. Not the drugs or the mania, but the carefree feeling that descended upon him when he was on the dance floor. 

He's hoping to recapture some of that freedom this weekend. 

That is, if Leo will cut loose for once in his life. 

"So, I thought we'd just lay down for a little bit. I know you're going to want to hit up one of these bars later. The first event doesn't start until seven, so we could maybe order something off the room service menu and just relax for a bit. That drive really took a lot out of me." Leo laid down on the overstuffed mattress, pulling Ian down with him. 

Leo clicks on the TV, and it suddenly feels like they aren't at a resort at all. It feels like they are back in Leo's apartment, just any other Friday night. 

Ian let himself be manipulated until he was tucked into Leo's side. Honestly, Ian didn't want to lay down. He was excited for this weekend, and wanted to get out and see what the resort had to offer. But he doesn't want to start the weekend off with a pointless argument. So he lays with his head on Leo's chest, listening to reruns of The Office with his eyes closed.

Ian's not even sure why Leo brought him up here if they were going to spend the weekend doing exactly what they do back in Chicago. 

Maybe after Leo has his nap, he'll be more open to exploring the resort....

 

***

 

Mickey has come to the sudden realization that he lives his life between the bars. He's not sure where the thought came from, but now that's it's there, he can't shake it. 

Mickey rolls his head on his neck, grimacing at the wet crack in his vertebrae when he turns his head too sharply to the left. 

"Ouch." Jared laughs unhelpfully. 

"Fuck off." Mickey replies. 

They are just getting to the resort after over an hour of driving. The car is quiet, save for the low sounds of the radio in the background. Dexter is passed out in the back seat of Mickey's rusty old Impreza, and Jared has been immersed in his queer Twitter feed for the duration of the ride. This leave Mickey to his own thoughts, which is never a good thing.

Mickey can't say he's especially excited for this long weekend event. It kinda sucks the fun out of pretty much anything if you have to work. Sure he'll probably get drunk, and yeah, he's sure he'll at least get his dick sucked at some point. But he won't be able to really relax and enjoy the resort like any other guest would. 

And this brings Mickey back to his original thought. He lives his life between bars. He goes from one to the next, working his ass off to keep his shit life afloat. He works so much, he can't even remember the last time he went out just to have fun. The club scene has lost all it's appeal for him now, after being on the other side of the bar for so long. 

His life is now a long series of singular moments at one club or another: pouring drinks, cleaning up puke, finding drugs on the floor in the bathroom, hooking up with some random stranger after last call, waking up alone in his cold dark apartment...doing it all over the next night. All these moments strung together make up his days and nights, but nothing really memorable ever happens to him. He's just going through the motions at this point. 

He wants something more, but has no idea what it is he wants, or how to get it. 

Mickey sighs, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel as he fucking finally pulls into the parking lot at Lake Geneva. 

The resort is bigger than Mickey anticipated. That's the first thing he notices. Then main building is a sprawling mass of metal and wood, punctuated with giant glass windows. There is a network of concrete sidewalks snaking around the main building and the parking lot, shooting off in all different directions. Mickey had familiarized himself with the map of the resort online before driving up here, and he knows that to the right are the cabins and suites, and to the left is the pool house, gym, and the lake house. Mickey pulls his sunglasses off the dashboard, slipping them onto his face to dull the late afternoon sun glaring off the lake on the other side of the parking lot. 

Mickey is a little surprised that the parking lot is so full already. The events don't start until later in the evening, and Twilight won't have any of their bar open until seven. But he's certain the resort's own bar is open, and probably making a killing on all the queers who showed up early to pregame this Valentine's bullshit. 

"Oooh, I'm so excited!" Jared crows, turning in his seat to shake Dexter awake. "Dex! Get your gay ass up! We're here." 

Dexter groans, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Jared continues to shake him. 

"I'm up, dick. Quit it." 

Mickey chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You two idiots get your shit together and get outta my car. We need to check in, dump our stuff and go find Aaron and Jace. We need to get our work assignments before our shift starts tonight. So now more dicking around." Mickey opened his door and was out of the car before either of his companions could reply. 

Mickey grabbed his bag out of the trunk, waiting for Dexter and Jared to take theirs before slamming the trunk shut and making his way up the walkway toward the main building. 

The faster he got this shit done, the faster he could get to his room and unpack. If he played is cards right, he could smoke a joint and have a beer before he had to head over to whichever club Aaron had assigned him to for the night.

 

***

 

"Gentlemen!" Aaron's loud voice booms in the mostly empty room. His husband rolls his eyes from behind the bar, but Mickey can see the affection in his expression, plain as day. 

Mickey is always a little bit in awe of his boss and his husband. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that shit. Mickey's come a long way since his dad got locked up for life. He lives his life as an out and proudish gay man. He makes his living working gay clubs, for Christ's sake. He's not that closeted little asshole he was when he was a teenager. 

But there is a big difference between not being ashamed of his queerness, and totally owning it like Aaron and Jace do. Their open adoration of each other is as amazing as it is unnerving. The casual touches, the sweet words, the unspoken, unnameable thing that hangs between them whenever they are within spitting distance of each other. 

Mickey watches them interacting. Laughing and smiling at each other like they are the only two in the room. Mickey wonders what that must feel like, to be so enamored with another person that the rest of the world falls away. He's never felt like that, not even close. 

There was that one guy, back when Mickey was just a stupid kid that wouldn't even admit to himself that he was gay. The guy he never talks about. Never even says his name. 

That kid looked at him like that. Like Mickey was something amazing. 

Mickey didn't know what to do with that look, back then. It had terrified him. That kid had terrified him. 

Mickey doesn't think of him much. Won't let himself go there. He doesn't look back on that time in his life fondly, even if he has some really good memories with him. Any of the good times were overshadowed by pain and anger, and it ruined whatever they'd been trying to build. 

It didn't matter, in the end. It all got razed to the ground when Terry caught Mickey with him, beat them both senseless. Mickey had a broken jaw, fractured wrist, and six cracked ribs. The other kid had a fractured skull, bruised kidneys, and a shattered eye socket. 

Mickey had dragged himself ten blocks to get to the hospital to see him, desperate to know he was okay. That he would be okay. 

He'd been met outside by the kid's mother. She had told Mickey in no uncertain terms to stay the fuck away from her son, or she'd call the cops and have Mickey hauled in for the beating. Of course she was too afraid to go after Terry, but she had no problem selling Mickey up the river. 

It didn't matter in the end. When the kid got out of the hospital, his mother moved him to Ohio, and Mickey never even got to say goodbye. 

In the years since all that happened, a lot has changed for Mickey, but one thing stays stubbornly the same: he can't seem to find anyone that elicits that same response in him. No one looks at Mickey like that first kid did. Like they really see him. Like he's worth something. No one makes Mickey feel as safe, or as good as he did. No one sees Mickey like he did. 

And Mickey is starting to think no one ever will. 

Maybe there was something wrong with that kid. Maybe he saw something in Mickey that wasn't really there at all. 

"Mickey?" Aaron's voice pulls Mickey from his thoughts. Mickey glances up sheepishly, horrified to find everyone in the room is staring at him. 

"Huh?" 

Aaron laughed, shooting his husband an exasperated look. "I was just explaining you guys' work assignments for the weekend." 

"Oh, sorry." Mickey replied sheepishly. "I'm just kinda tired from the drive." he lied. He better get his head on straight and in the game. He's working this weekend, not looking for love or digging up long-buried bodies of his past. 

He needs to cut the shit. 

"As I was saying," Aaron said, giving Mickey a playful glare. "The resort has given us three spots to set up as nightclubs and bars for the weekend. We have Elite Designs coming in to decorate the spaces. We're going to go with three distinct themes for each bar area." Aaron cast his eyes along the three men assembled in front of him. "Dexter, I want you with the boys from Angel's in the Black Swan Room. You are familiar with Angel's, Dexter?" 

"Yeah." Dexter nodded. "It's your new bar on Ellis Street. Caters to college gays." 

Mickey chuckled at his friend's choice of words. It was true, though. Angel's was one of those singles bars that Mickey would never step foot in unless he was getting paid. Speed dating and karaoke and fucking drag night. Mickey's had to pull some shifts there, and it was not a pleasant experience. 

That kinda shit is Dexter's scene though, so Mickey's sure he'll enjoy it. 

"And Jared, we want you in the Peacock room." Aaron continued. "This particular spot is reminiscent of our bar Prism, and it will be staffed with some of our Prism employees. You've all worked there at one point, so I know you understand what I expect from you." he gave Jared a meaningful look, and Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. He hated working at Prism. Not only was it Aaron and Jace's most high end club, but it catered almost exclusively to committed couples. It was the only gay bar in Chicago that did that. Most gay bars were about anonymous sex, or hook up culture. Aaron and Jace came up with the idea after they got married. They wanted a place they could go grab a drink that wasn't all thudding house music and dry humping, so they created one. Mickey could respect that, even if he was bored out of his mind any time he pulled a shift over there. 

Not to mention he never got laid working there. 

"Ah, okay." Jared replied, taking care to keep his tone light. Mickey snickered behind his back. Jared hated working at Prism, just like Mickey did, and Mickey knew Jared was going to be miserable all weekend serving those boring old married queers their fucking martinis while they listened to fucking opera music. 

"Good, good." Aaron said. "And finally, our little Mickey..." 

"You know he hates it when you call him that, darling." Jace chuckled, smiling at Mickey. Jace and Aaron loved to take the piss out of Mickey. Mickey took it with minimal attitude. These dudes were his bosses, after all. 

Aaron didn't respond to his husband, however, he just talked over him. Mickey did smile then. "Mickey, we want you in the Raven Room. We think you'll fit right in. The theme in that room will be just like Crowbar, so you'll feel right at home." 

Mickey smirked at his friends, waggling his eyebrows. Crowbar was Mickey's favorite bar to work at. It was kinda like a gay bar and a dive bar had a baby. He could do without the awful techno music, but the eye candy was incredible. It wasn't a club for singles looking for love, and it wasn't a piano bar for middle aged queens. It was a good old fashioned gay bar, where the only thing the guys were looking for was strong drinks and strange dick. It was by far the wildest bar Aaron and Jace owned, and it was the only one Mickey felt remotely comfortable in.

That's probably the reason Aaron decided to have him work it for this event. Mickey is relieved that Aaron and Jace know him well enough to not put him in either of those other bars. Mickey has yet to throw a punch at this job, and he's doing his best to keep it that way. But he's only human, and a Milkovich to boot. So he knows just as well as his bosses do that it's better not to tempt fate by surrounding him with either drunken drag queens or pretentious old fairies. 

"So, that's where we want you guys this weekend. You will be working every night, but not all night." Jace smiled, curling his arm around his husband. "You may be here to work, but Aaron and I want you to enjoy the weekend too, as much as you can. Who knows, maybe one of you will find true love." 

"It is that time of year." Aaron agreed, laying a gentle kiss on his husbands lips. 

Mickey scoffed. He didn't mean to, it just slipped out. All the other men in the room turned to him, varying degrees of amusement on their faces. 

"Mickey here thinks Valentine's Day is for suckers." Dexter chuckled. 

"Well, you know what they say...."Aaron smiled, cocking an eyebrow at Mickey. "The most vehement non-believers make the most powerful converts." 

"Yeah, okay." Mickey laughed. 

Not fucking likely. 

 

***

 

"So, I've planned out our weekend." Leo stated, smiling at Ian through the mirror as he straightened his tie. Ian nodded, taking great care to keep his face passive. He didn't want to ruin Leo's excitement by letting on how uninterested he was in Leo's plans. 

"So, tell me. What's on the agenda?" Ian replied, playing his part. He tucked his green dress shirt into his dark slacks before pocketing his phone, ID and cigarettes. He bypassed Leo, who was hogging the hall mirror and stepped into the bathroom to check his hair. 

"Why would I tell you? That's just ruining the fun." 

Ian sighed, nodding. Looks like he's going into this blind. Which is fine, really. If he knows Leo at all, they are probably heading to the one of the stuffier spots at the resort. Leo thrives on that shit. Fine dining and expensive wine. Ian is still more comfortable with greasy food and good beer, but he's open to Leo broadening his horizons. 

"Come on, let's go." 

Ian nodded again, following Leo out of their room and into the hallway. 

The resort was bustling with activity now. In the few hours Ian and Leo had been passed out in their room, the entire place had come alive. Everywhere Ian looked, he saw men. Old men, young men, well dressed gentlemen and boys barely old enough to drink decked out for a night of dancing and debauchery. Ian smiled as they made their way down the hall, muttering 'excuse me' every time he bumped shoulders with some random stranger. 

Leo stopped in front of a set of french doors, turning to give Ian a warm smile. "We have reservations." he said cryptically before pushing the doors open and dragging Ian into the room by his wrist. 

Ian cast his eyes around the space, taking in the posh interior of the room. The room was huge, will vaulted ceilings and a large wall of windows along the far side. The bar was nestled in the left hand corner, the mahogany top shining in the light of the low-hanging chandeliers. Tables dotted along the space, topped with crisp white linens and fresh flowers. Instrumental music was being pumped into the space at a low volume, as to not overshadow the various conversations going on at any given moment. 

This didn't feel like a nightclub. It felt like a restaurant, or a country club. Something high end and pretentious. Ian felt sorely out of place, like he often did with Leo. 

"Is this one of Twilight's clubs?" Ian asked as they stood by the door waiting to be seated. 

"It is." Leo said, turning to give Ian a smile. "Remember when I took you to Prism? With Barry and his husband?" 

Ian nodded. Yes, he remembered. Prism is a concept bar in Chicago that is aimed at older married gay couples. Leo likes it because he considers himself too mature for regular gay bars. He is a few years older than Ian, and has seemed to have outgrown his clubbing days. Ian doesn't mind, not really. He just wants to spend time with Leo for Valentine's day. 

Sure, he'd rather be dancing, but it's not all about him. 

"Will you be dining with us?" a dark skinned man asked them, holding two menus in his hand. He was attractive, with his white suit and dark eyes. 

"Yes, Michum, two for dinner." Leo said, resting his hand on Ian's hip. 

The host nodded, leading them toward an empty table by the window. Ian slid into his seat, glancing out the window. The moon was high in the sky already, making the snow on the ground glitter like so many diamonds. 

"A waiter will be right with you." the man said, nodding to Ian and Leo before making his leave. 

"I'm going to get the biggest lobster they have." Leo said, his eyes scanning the menu. 

"Lobster, really? At an event like this?" 

"Ian, I don't know how many times I have to tell you this. This is a high end event. When they say all inclusive, they mean it. Get whatever you want, there will be no bill." 

Ian smiled, finally feeling something akin to excitement. He could defiantly get on board with free shit all weekend. 

The waiter came over a few minutes later, and Leo ordered for them both. Ian wasn't really a fan of that, but Leo did know what he liked, so he let is slide. Leo ended up getting the lobster, and Ian got stuffed pork chops. Leo ordered a house salad for them to split and a bottle of Chardonnay for the table. Ian wasn't really a wine drinker, but it was all Leo ever drank, so Ian was learning to live with it. 

Just after their food arrived, a couple Ian vaguely recognized walked over to their table and sat down. 

"I knew we'd run into you here at some point." the taller of the two men said. He was good looking, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes. He and his date were both wearing dark suits and brightly colored ties. 

"David, this is Leo, a friend of mine. Leo, this is my husband David." 

Leo smiled, setting his fork down so he could shake the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, David." 

The man, David, was another textbook attractive man. Short cropped brown hair and dark eyes. He was unnaturally tan for this time of year, and he'd had some obvious plastic surgery at some point. The skin around his eyes was tight, making him like he was perpetually surprised. 

"Barry, David, this is Ian. He works down on the administration floor at Beckham and List. We've been dating for a few months." Leo motioned across the table with a smile. "Ian this is Barry from the club and his husband, David. Barry and I face off in the court room all the time." he winked, earning a laugh from Barry. 

"Nice to meet you." Ian said politely, shaking each man's hand. He watched, a little surprised, when the men pulled up two chairs and sat down with them. 

When they had arrive at the restaurant, Ian had thought that he and Leo were going to have a romantic dinner, not a business meeting. 

"Leo's told us good things." David replied with a smile. He poured himself a glass of wine. Looks like these two are making themselves comfortable. 

"Um, thanks." Ian replied, unsure what else he could say. 

It didn't matter, no one was listening to him anyway. The three men were immediately deep into a business conversation that was well above Ian's pay grade. Something about court filings and imminent domain law. Ian sipped his wine, his eyes once again finding the window. He watched the snow fall for god knows how long, tuning out the conversation entirely and instead focusing on the soothing classical music pouring out of the speakers. 

Their food came and Ian was surprised to find that Barry and David had their food delivered to their table too, and suddenly Ian was on a double date. Ian pushed down that little bubble of irritation and tucked into his food. It was delicious, and the tasty meal did a little bit to soften the blow of his date being invaded. 

The conversation veered away from work and onto more pleasant topics. Ian was talking to David about his hopes for the White Sox's upcoming season when suddenly everything turned on it's axis. 

Ian was laughing at something David had said about some of their team's off season's shenanigans, when Barry started coughing. Ian tore his eyes away from David mid-sentence and locked eyes with Barry. He looked terrified.

"Bar? You okay buddy?" Leo asked, voice wavering. 

"Honey?? What is it?" David gasped, jumping up from the table. 

Ian took in the man's visible symptoms. His face was bright red, sweat dotting his brow. He was struggling to breath, his hands clawing at his throat. Ian was a first aide lead over at the law firm, and his training kicked in without a second thought. 

Ian jumped up from the table, coming up behind Barry, gripping him by his head in his hands and tipping it backwards. Barry's frightened eyes locked onto Ian's and Ian gave him a warm smile. 

"Barry, can you hear me?" Ian said in his strongest, most reassuring voice. Barry gave Ian a weak nod, and Ian smiled down at him. He pressed two fingers to Barry's carotid artery, feeling for his pulse. It was weak, and rapid. 

"David, is Barry allergic to anything?" Ian asked, loosening Barry's tie to give the man a little more space to breathe. (not that he was breathing much.)

"He, uh, he's allergic to shellfish." David stammered, just as the bartender and waiter ran over. 

"Sir?" the bartender said unhelpfully. 

"Does he have an epi pen?" Ian asked, taking stock of Barry's symptoms in light of this new information. 

"He does. It's in our room, though." David spat, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

"I can get it here." the bartender said, unclipping a walkie talkie from his belt. "What room?" 

"Um, 34A." David said, watching with wide eyes as Ian eased Barry down to the floor and unbuttoned his shirt. David pulled out his wallet, shoving his key card into the bartender's hand. The man was off, shouting into his walky talky as he ran out of the room and down the hall. 

"Okay, Barry, help's on the way." Ian smiled down at him. "Just try to stay calm and breath as best you can, alright? We're fine. Everything's fine." 

Barry's eyes were still wide and scared, but he gave Ian a weak nod. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the bartender came running back into the restaurant. The whole space was in chaos now, all the other patrons standing around Ian and Barry on the ground. Leo was standing off to the side with his arm protectively wrapped around David. 

"Make some god damn room!" someone shouted from deep within the crowd. "Come on! Move your ass." 

Ian looked up just in time to see the bartender was back, with some loud mouth pit bull of a man parting the crowd for him like the red sea. 

The loud guy was fucking hot. Ian was surprised at the thought. This was not the time to be ogling strangers. Someone's life was on the line. 

But it was hard not to notice the the mouthy guy. He was striking, with ghost white skin, black hair and ice blue eyes. He was short, but it worked for him. He was dressed like the other bartenders, but for some reason he looked so much better than any other bartender here. Black button up shirt stretched tight over his chest, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms and incredibly rude tattoos. The dark jeans he was wearing might as well been painted on. Jesus, that ass was a thing of beauty. 

What the fuck? Ian needs to focus. Barry needs his help. 

"Sir." the bartender said, dropping the epipen into Ian's outstretched hand. Ian nodded his thanks, pulling the cap off the device with his teeth. He gripped Barry's thigh in his left hand and pressed the epipen to his leg. He jammed his thumb down on the plunger and sighed in relief when he heard the click of the medication being injected. He held the pen tight to Barry's leg for ten more seconds. 

By the time Ian pulled the pen away from Barry's leg, he was coming back to himself. Thank god. 

"Dave?" Barry's voice was weak and hoarse. He tired to sit up, but Ian held him down gently. 

"David's right here, Bar." Leo said from the sidelines. Barry's eyes moved sluggishly toward Leo's voice and his eye lit up at the sight of his husband. "Baby. Shrimp?" 

"I don't know, my love, but you better believe I'm going to find out. Someone's head is going to roll for this." 

Ian was taken aback by the passion in David's voice. The adoration. The pure love spiked with vengeance. He had no doubt heads were going to roll. 

Barry chuckled weakly. "Get me up." 

"Barry you need to go to the medical suite." Ian said kindly. "It's protocol for anaphalaxis, and you know that." 

Barry rolled his eyes, finally moving to stand. Ian helped him up and the bartender from earlier stepped forward. 

"Sir, my name is Jared and I will be happy to escort you and your husband to the medical suite." 

Barry nodded, letting David take his hand as the followed Jared out of the room. 

Jared the bartender turned back at the last minute, locking eyes with the loud guy from earlier. 

"Mick, drinks on the house for the doctor here and his husband." 

The other guy nodded, glancing at Ian before heading toward the bar. 

Ian watches him go, a strange feeling trickling down his spine. He wanted to correct the bartender and his coworker. This Mick person. 

He wanted them to know he's not a doctor. He also wanted them to know he was not Leo's husband. 

What a strange thought. But it had become a strange day, so....

 

***

 

Mickey watched Jared leading the sick guy out of the room, his frazzled husband trailing behind them like a lost puppy. 

When Jared had raised him on the radio and asked him to come watch his bar for a few minutes, he didn't anticipate it being some kind of life or death scenario. 

He also didn't anticipate coming face to face with the hottest guy he'd ever seen in real life. The red head was fucking gorgeous. And Mickey can admit, if only to himself, watching the stranger save that guy's life was pretty damn sexy. 

Mickey doesn't know what the guy's deal is. If he's a doctor, or just trained in first aid, but whatever he is, Mickey digs it. 

He shakes his head as he mixes a cosmo for some old queen. He can't go around popping boners for hot clients all weekend. Yes, he can get his rocks off, but not on the clock, and certainly not with the married fags that hang out in places like the Peacock room. He needs to shut that shit down and wait for a more appropriate dick to bounce on. Preferably one that's not married, or into this stifling social scene. 

Just as Mickey promises himself he's not going to even look in the sexy red head's direction, the man himself strolls up to the bar, with his man no less. 

Sometimes Mickey wonders if there is a God out there somewhere who's sole purpose in existence is to fuck Mickey up. 

"Hey guys." Mickey puts on his best professional smile. He is working, after all. "What can I get for you? On the house, of course." he put his hands out, palms up, waiting. "Quick thinking back there." he quirks an eyebrow at the guy.

The red head smiled at him, and Mickey swears he starts to sweat just from that look alone. 

Not good. Not good at all. 

The sexy ginger doesn't even speak. His man steps up to the bar, looking pretty pissed off for a guy who's about to get a free drink. 

"Two shots of Johnny Walker Blue." the dude said. Mickey fought the urge to roll his eyes. That is a forty dollar shot. That is two forty dollar shots. This asshole probably throws money around like that all the time. He wonders for a second if that's what the red head is into. Money. 

He shakes his head, chastising himself for his stupid thoughts. He's acting like a fucking idiot. He turned quickly, grabbing the bottle off a high shelf and placing it on the bar next to two shot glasses. He poured the shots and took a step back, hands on his hips. 

He watched surreptitiously as the red head tossed his shot back. Mickey was transfixed, watching his adam's apple bob, watching him lick his lips. 

"I'm done, Ian." the older guy said. "This was a god damn fiasco. I just want to go to bed." 

The red head, Ian, nodded. He gave Mickey a shy smile before following his grumpy man out of the bar and disappearing into the hallway. 

Mickey sighed, running a hand down his face. What the fuck is wrong with him? He doesn't do that shit. He keeps his cool, and he sure as shit doesn't get insta-crushes on rich, taken twinks. 

Jesus Christ. 

Just as he's about to slide face first into a shame spiral, Jared comes bounding back into the bar. 

"Wow." Jared breathed. "That was intense." 

Mickey nodded. It sure was. "What a way to start this shit show of a weekend, huh?" 

Jared laughed, shoving Mickey. "But....that doctor was sexy, right?" 

"Doctor?" Mickey replied, side eyeing his friend as he made his way out of the room. 

"You know who I'm talking about." Jared laughed. "The red headed life saver. Too bad he's married to that suit. I'd hit that for sure." 

"Shut the fuck up." Mickey laughed, waving over his shoulder as he wandered out of the Peacock Room and back toward his own job. 

As he wandered down the hall, he couldn't temper his smile. Jared wasn't wrong about the red head. Ian. And even if Mickey knew it was a dead end in real life, that didn't mean the sexy doctor couldn't make a guest appearance in Mickey's fantasies at the end of the night....

 

***

 

Ian stirred, pinching his eyes shut against the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew that he was awake now and there was no chance of falling back to sleep.  


Leo was sleeping next to him on his back. Ian propped himself up on one elbow so he could get a good look at him. He was attractive, that much was obvious. He took good care of himself and his body reflected the endless hours he spent at the gym. He was a couple years older than Ian, but you couldn't tell. He had a head full of messy brown hair and perfect fair skin. 

He was hot, and he was nice enough, but Ian wasn't sure there was much beyond that. That instant spark was lacking. That unnamable thing the draws you to a person. But Ian didn't want to dismiss him outright because of something that might not even exist in real life. Ian didn't know a thing about love, but he was hopeful he'd know it when he saw it. That was the reason he agreed to accompany Leo to Lake Geneva this weekend. He was hoping for some kind of indication that Leo might be the guy he's been looking for. Someone to make a life with.

Ian sighed, falling back onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, running a hand up and down his chest absentmindedly. He glanced at the small clock on the wall above the TV. 9:30. Huh, they had slept later than he thought.

After last night's dinner debacle, Leo had been tired and a little grumpy for whatever reason. He didn't want to check out any of the other clubs, or even walk the resort. They had returned to their room and gotten into their pajamas. Ian had ordered a movie off the TV and they had some dessert delivered by room service. It was like any other night back home. Nothing special. 

They had sex and went to bed with little fanfare. Same shit, different location. 

Ian sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He planted his feet on the floor and wandered into the bathroom, not bothering to put clothes on. 

The bathroom was nice, like the rest of the room. It was small, but felt spacious. The sink and toilet were right inside the door. The rest of the room was dominated by a huge glass shower, covered in bright white subway tiles. The fixtures were brushed copper, and the space was accented with dark exotic wood. 

Ian turned the shower on, brushing his teeth while he waited for the water to warm up. He took his medication, washing the pills down with some water from the tap. As the room started to fill with steam, Ian opened the shower door and stepped inside. He stood under the spray, letting the incredible water pressure soothe his muscles. 

As Ian washed his body, he let his mind wander. Last night was kind of a disappointment, if Ian's being honest with himself. When he agreed to accompany Leo to Lake Geneva for Valentine's day, he anticipated an over the top romantic weekend filled with fun and excitement. So far all he's gotten was a dinner with Leo's friends that went totally off the rails, and some mediocre sex with old Seinfeld reruns playing in the background. 

It's not that sex with Leo is boring, per say, it's just the same thing, over and over. Like a scripted series of movements, never deviating from the program. Leo will jerk Ian off until he's hard (because foreplay is not a thing Leo is into) after which Ian will blow Leo while he preps him. Then Ian fucks him, face to face, every time. It's been that way since they started seeing each other. No spontaneity, no experimenting. 

Like this morning, for example. Ian woke up with a raging boner, which he is still sporting. But Leo doesn't like morning sex. He doesn't like to be woken up, not even for an orgasm. So Ian did what he always does. He went to the bathroom to take care of his dick himself. 

Ian skims his hand down his wet chest, sighing at the sensation. His mind is blank, totally focused on the feeling in his body. He doesn't usually fantasize when he jerks off. Whenever a scenario pops into his head, it's not about Leo, and that feels vaguely like cheating, so Ian tries not to do it. He tries to just focus on his body, and the sensations he feels. 

This morning, though, Ian can't seem to help himself. 

He shakes off any worry or guilt, grabbing his dick and giving it a long, slow stroke. His breath hitches as he jerks off, leaning against the tiled wall as he picks up speed.

In his mind's eye he see the bartender. Mick. It's not even a sex scenario, per say. He doesn't imagine fucking Mick or Mick sucking his dick. All he sees is the man's arms. Muscles flexing within the confines of his black dress shirt. He sees his stacked ass in those tight black jeans. He imagines those fingers, adorned in tattoos, in a tight grip around his leaking cock, jerking him off while he whispers filthy shit in his ear.  
Ian gasps in the steamy shower, resting his head against the tile as his hips jerk and he comes hard. 

Fuck.

What the hell was that? 

Before Ian can even consider what he'd just done, the bathroom door flies open and Leo saunters into the room.

"Good morning." Leo says, stepping up to the toilet. 

"Uh, good morning." Ian replied, still coming down from his orgasmic high.

"So, I was thinking we'd grab some breakfast and go skiing." Leo says. Ian can hear him moving around the bathroom. The sink turns on and off, then Ian can hear him pissing. 

"Sure, sounds good." Ian replies, still breathing a little heavy. He can't believe he did that shit. Now that Leo is standing right there, Ian feels guilty. He shouldn't be thinking about random strangers when his kind-of boyfriend is in the next room. 

"Good." Leo says. Ian can hear him leaving the bathroom. "Hurry up, then. We can hit the slopes and then head over to the breakfast buffet in the Peacock room. I heard they serve 'til two."

"Okay." Ian calls back. He doesn't have all that much experience skiing. He's not quite sure how all of this is going to pan out, but he came up here with Leo to try new things. He's excited about it. 

He just hopes he doesn't bust his ass and end up in the infirmary like Barry. 

 

***

 

"Mick, c'mon." 

Mickey groans, rolling over on his stomach. He pulls the blankets up over his head, curling his body into a tight ball. 

"Mickey." 

Nothing. 

"Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich!" a heavy pillow lands on Mickey's head and he shoots up lightning fast. 

"Motherfucker, I will end you." Mickey growls, low and deadly. 

Dexter just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, smug smile on his face. 

"Fuck off, Mick. We are supposed to go have brunch before our shift starts. It's not my fault you got so faded last night you forgot about our plans. I'm not letting you bail. Get your grumpy ass up. Jared is in the shower already." 

Mickey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can't remember what possessed him to agree to brunch of all things. He must have been drunker than he thought last night. His mind scans the fuzzy memories from the previous evening. 

After his shift, he'd stayed in the Raven room, where Dexter and Jared joined him after they both got off work. They'd spent the remainder of the evening drinking and laughing about all the bullshit they'd seen while working the resort. 

Mickey had had a hard time concentrating on his friends, however. His mind kept being drawn back to the guy from earlier. Ian. Mickey's not sure why he can't seem to shake this guy. He barely even spoke to him. It makes no sense. 

So Mickey had done the only thing he could think of at the time. He'd wandered over to some twink on the dance floor. He can barely remember what the kid looked like now, but he was pretty good with his mouth. 

After Mickey had gotten off, he'd left Dexter and Jared at the bar and wandered back to his room to get some much needed shut eye. 

And now here he is, mildly hungover, getting ready to go to fucking brunch with his asshole friends. 

How is this Mickey's life? 

He smiles to himself as he drags his tired body out of bed. If Terry could see him now, he'd have a fucking stroke. That's what Mickey strives for these days: to live his life in such a way that his father would drop dead on the spot if he ever caught wind of it. 

Mickey moves slowly, wandering over to his suitcase. He grabs some clean clothes, throwing them on without much thought and making his way out to the bathroom. Dexter and Jared are in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and staring at their phones. 

"Ten minutes." Mickey says over his shoulder as he enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He pisses quickly before turning on the sink. He catches his reflection in the mirror and smiles. It hits him at the strangest times, these moments of contentment. He can't say if he's actually happy. He's not sure he knows what that looks like. But he can say that he's content now. 

He's made a life for himself, far removed from his father's legacy and all the toxic shit that came along with it. He is no longer that asshole he'd been since grade school. That kid that was so afraid of who and what he was, that he stomped the shit out of anyone who got close enough to get a glimpse of the real him. 

He never thought he'd be comfortable in his own skin. He never thought he'd get to a place where he could accept his queerness. When he was a kid, he thought he'd spend his whole life pretending. Fucking girls and beating fags until whoever he really was inside died. 

He had felt dead inside for a long time. 

He had a moment where things were different. With that kid. The one Terry almost killed. Mickey had gotten a glimpse of what it felt like to love and be loved. But it had been torn from his grasp before he could even figure out what it meant. 

Mickey can't help but feel like he's been chasing that feeling ever since then. Not that he really ever gives anyone a chance to get that close to him. Mickey's dated since then, but looking back now he is starting to realize that he's never really given any of those guys a real chance. His walls have been up so high, no one has ever gotten past them. Most men give up before even really trying. 

Mickey wonders if that on them, or him. 

Shit. What the fuck is wrong with him? This Valentine's Day bullshit is fucking with his head. Must be all the gay love pheromones floating in the air around this resort. 

Mickey needs to get his head on straight. He's here to work and play, not fall into some true love trap like some sappy fag. Jesus. 

He needs breakfast. And a drink. You can drink at brunch, right? 

Yeah, that's what he's gonna do. 

He finishes up in the bathroom, leaving all his introspective thoughts there as he meets his friends in the hall and heads out of the room. 

 

***

 

"My whole body aches." Ian groaned, following Leo down the hall toward the Peacock room. The Peacock is the only one of the clubs on site that serves brunch. Ian's looking forward to some strong coffee and salty bacon. 

"You were a mess up there." Leo chuckles, leading Ian down the hall. Ian glares at the back of his head, scowling. 

Yeah, okay, he was a bit clumsy on the slopes. He told Leo he'd never been skiing before. He told Leo it might be a bad idea for him to jump right into it without any lessons or practice. But Leo had assured him it was simple, mostly gravity. 

Ian had stupidly believed him.

He'd spent the entire two hours on his ass. He'd fallen down so many times, he's sure his backside is going to be bruised for months. Leo had skied circles around him, laughing at Ian's misfortune the entire time. Leo had made a point to tell Ian on no less than four occasions how clumsy Ian was compared to his ex-fiance, Nicholas. How Ian was a baby gorilla compared to Nicholas' graceful swan. Which only served to sour Ian's mood even more. 

It's not that Ian cares that Leo was engaged before. Ian's had boyfriends too. Granted, never any he wanted to marry, but he's got exes just the same. It's the way Leo talks about Nick, always comparing Ian to him. More often than not, Ian comes up short. It's frustrating. 

Now he's limping down the hallway behind Leo, hoping beyond hope that the skiing debacle will be the low point of the day, and things will improve after some much needed nourishment. 

They enter the room, and Ian is not surprised to find it crowded again. This time, however, it's not only full of the married couples Ian had seen the previous night. Since this is the only brunch spot at the resort, everyone who's not still sleeping is packed into the room, waiting for their caffeine and carb fix. Ian sees some of the young twinks from yesterday, tossing back espresso like they are getting paid for it. He sees one of the married couples feeding each other honeydew melon with their fingers. He even sees a group of admittedly fabulous drag queens seated by the fireplace. They are engaged in some heated discussion, talking loudly and passionately, jabbing accusing fingers toward one another. Their fake nails are so long and sharp, Ian's momentarily worried one of them is going to lose an eye. Ian has the odd urge to go over there and sit down with them. He's sure their conversation is much more interesting than anything Leo will have to say. 

Leo speaks to the host, and the man leads them immediately to a small table by the window. Ian wonders idly as he follows Leo to their seats if Leo had reservations for this too. The man never has to wait for anything. 

Ian slides into his seat across from Leo and picks up the menu. Leo orders them a pitcher of mimosas and the waiter nods and walks away. 

After Ian decides on what he wants to eat, he lays his menu down and glances over at Leo. He's still perusing his menu, sipping his mimosa absentmindedly as he reads. Ian watches him, trying to decipher if this is a long term thing. Does Ian want to be with Leo? Does he see himself moving in with him, sharing bills and a bed? Does he see a future for them? 

Ian's not sure. They get along well, but beyond that Ian isn't certain of anything. Sometimes, like this morning, Leo makes Ian feel less than. Like he's a child and Leo has to show him the world. And sure, there's a lot of shit Ian hasn't done. Things that objectively would be fun. But the idea of doing them with Leo just drains Ian. If it's all going to be like the skiing incident, Ian's not looking forward to any of it. 

Ian sees it for what it is. A red flag. Maybe this weekend isn't going to give Ian any reassurance at all. Maybe this whole weekend is just reinforcing what Ian is already dreading: that he and Leo don't have a future after all. 

Ian sighs as the waiter saunters over, a plastic smile on his lips. "What can I get you gentlemen this morning?" 

Ian pushes his worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind. He needs to stop being so fatalistic. Leo is here with him, and it's not all bad. He's going to take it one step at a time. And the first step is breakfast. 

The rest of that shit can just wait. 

 

***

 

Mickey's not hungover, but he's not not hungover. He feels the tiniest headache trying to press to the front of his skull, and he's going to kill it with more booze. 

They should have smoked before they came down here. It is always easier for Mickey to deal with people when he's at least a little bit stoned. But fucking Jared and Dexter had been hell bent on getting to this faggy brunch as soon as possible. 

The place is packed, much to Mickey's annoyance. He has to see these assholes all damn night when he working, and he's not so keen on spending his off time surrounded by them too. He sighs as Miguel, one of the hosts, leads them to a table by the big windows at the far end of the room. Away from the still drunk twinks and the over the top queens. Mickey's grateful. He needs at least some semblance of quiet while he soaks up all the booze in his belly with pretentious brunch food. 

A waiter he doesn't recognize swings through to take their order. Mickey orders a bloody mary, which is kinda like a meal in and of itself. He'd never had one until last year, when Mandy had strong armed him into trying one. (he never could say no to that bitch) He had been surprised to find he didn't hate it. So now, whenever his dumbass friends dragged him to brunch, he ordered one, instead of sipping on that orange flavored pisswater everyone else jizzes themselves over. 

He also orders the largest stack of pancakes available and a double side order of bacon. Jared made a disgusted face and Mickey promptly flipped him off. 

"Y'know." Mickey said as the waiter wandered away. "You're going to starve to death if you keep ordering shit like that fancy fruit salad." 

Jarrod scoffed, rolling his eyes at Mickey. "What do you know about proper nutrition?" 

"I know you gotta get some protein in you that doesn't come from swallowing some dude's load." Mickey responded with a smirk. 

"Guys." Dexter sighed, clearly embarrassed. "Can we not? We might be off the clock, but Aaron and Jace have eyes and ears everywhere." 

Mickey scoffed, sipping his drink. "We're not doing anything wrong. You think any of these fags are going to be offended by a blowjob joke?" Mickey cast his eyes around the room, taking in all the stuck up assholes munching on fritattas and reconsidered. "Okay, whatever." 

Dexter smiles, always surprised when Mickey capitulated like that. It was a rare occurrence indeed. 

Their food came and conversation turned away from sex acts and onto safer topics. Jared told them about a cute guy he met in the gym late last night, and how he was planning on meeting him for a swim after his shift. Dexter told them all about a knock down drag out fight he'd seen between two drag queens after last call last night. Wigs and fake nails flying everywhere. 

Mickey was laughing his ass off as Dexter recounted the fight in vivid detail. He was close to pissing himself laughing when his eyes caught on a couple two tables over. 

It was the red head. Ian. From yesterday. He was with his boyfriend, but he didn't look all that happy about it. The guy looked tired, and kept wriggling around on his seat like he was in a massive amount of pain. 

Mickey chuckled. Poor kid must've taken it hard in the sack last night. Guess his suit boyfriend doesn't know how to take care of his bottom. Mickey feels a pang in his chest, not unlike disappointment, at the discovery that the sexy ginger is a bottom. Too bad, Mickey was certain that kid gave off top vibes for days. But the same could be said about him, so there's no real way of knowing by just looking at someone. 

Mickey shakes his head, irritated with himself for going there again. Whether or not Ian takes it is irrelevant to Mickey. He needs to remember that shit. 

Just as Mickey's about to look away, someone else walks up to Ian's table. Mickey cocks his head to the side. He's not one to eavesdrop normally, but the look on Ian's face says that this is going to be some kind of epic showdown. 

And Mickey, for one, loves a good show. 

 

***

 

Ian is busy slicing his veggie omelet up into bit sized pieces. Leo is yammering in the background about meeting Barry and David later for some kind of show in the Black Swan room. Ian hadn't been there yet. It was supposed to be the single's club, but apparently it was the only club on site that did karaoke. So it goes without saying that Leo and his friends would want to check it out. 

Ian's not a huge karaoke fan, but he doesn't hate it. It feels like that's all he's doing this weekend, shit he'd rather not do, but is willing to tolerate. 

Ian sighs, pinching his eyes shut. His hands still mid-slice as he takes a moment to focus on his breathing. He is getting overwhelmed again, feeling trapped in a situation he's coming to realize he doesn't want to be in. 

He's in the middle of his second round of breathing exercises when a voice near their table grabs his attention. 

"Leo." the man says softly.

Ian's eyes snap open and there is indeed a man standing in front of their table. He's on the shorter side, but well built, his muscles clearly visible under his tight white thermal shirt. He's got blonde hair and hazel eyes. He looks like he just ran a marathon, he's breathing heavy and a layer of sweat is visible along his neck and exposed chest. 

"Nicholas?" Leo replies, shocked. Ian's eyes snap over to Leo and he watches his date stand from the table and take two steps toward the man. 

Nicholas. The ex-fiance? Seriously? 

Ian watched, wide-eyed as Nicholas closed the distance between him and Leo. They were standing mere inches apart now, just watching each other. Ian sat in his chair, gobsmacked. What the fuck is happening?

"Nicky, what are you doing here?" Leo asks softly. Ian didn't miss the pet name, or the way it seemed to make the other man melt. 

"Leo, I can't do this anymore. I know we broke up, and I'm sorry for my part in it, but we belong together, baby. I can't live without you. I need you in my life. Leo, please." 

Ian glances around the room quickly, mortified to find that every single queer eye in the room has turned toward his table now. 

The gays do love their drama. 

"Nicky, it's been months. How did you even know where to find me?" Leo asks, unconsciously taking a step closer. Ian sinks down in his seat, desperate to disappear. This kind of shit only ever happens to him. 

"Your mom told me, baby. She thinks we have a real shot. She told me to come up here and try." 

"She did?" 

"Yeah, Leo. And I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you like you needed me to be. We can do whatever you want. Move to the suburbs, go to counseling. Anything. Everything. For you, baby. Please. Can we just go somewhere and talk? Please, Leo." Nicholas has tears streaming down his face freely. Ian glances toward his date and sees an identical look on Leo's face. 

Well, that settles that, doesn't it? 

Leo moves to embrace his ex, but stops short. His eyes flick over to Ian, like he almost forgot Ian was there at all. 

"Ian..." Leo starts, but Ian puts his hand up. 

"It's fine, Leo." 

"Who are you?" Nicholas asks, taking a step toward Ian. 

"No one you need to worry about." Ian replies tiredly. "We were just having fun. He's all yours." 

"Ian." Leo says, moving toward the table again. "I'm so sorry. But what I have with Nick was never finished. Someday you'll understand, when you meet the one." 

"It's fine, Leo. Really." Ian assured him. "We both knew this wasn't going anywhere." at least Ian had known, he had just been stupidly ignoring it. "I guess I'll go pack my shit." 

"No, no." Leo said, laying a hand over Ian's on the table. "I'm going to go with Nicholas, but you should spend the rest of the weekend here. My treat. The room is already paid for. It would be a waste to not take advantage of it." 

"Oh yeah." Ian nodded, smiling sarcastically. "Just what I need, a weekend surrounded by love in all it's gay glory." 

"I'm sorry, Ian. I never meant to hurt you." Leo replies, backing away and into the arms of his lost lover. "It was always Nick, though." 

"It's fine, Leo." Ian repeated, waving like an idiot. "Really, it's good." 

"Thank you." Leo said, smiling. He then had the balls to turn around and kiss his ex, right there in the middle of the room. The whole place erupted into a cacophony of cheering and clapping.

If that's not cliche Valentine's Day, Ian doesn't know what is. He never expected to be on this end of the equation, however. 

He may not have been that into Leo, but the rejection still stings. 

What now?

 

***

 

Mickey can't stop watching, even though he knows he should. It's none of his business, but one look around the room proves that he's not the only one rubbernecking this fiasco. 

Mickey feels bad for Ian, even though he doesn't know him. Being dumped like that, so publicly, and on Valentine's Day weekend no less...that shit has to sting. 

Mickey and his friends watched the whole thing go down, hanging on every word the entire time, just like every other asshole in the Peacock room. He watched Ian's boyfriend leave with some blond dudebro douchebag. He watched Ian push his plate away and stand, quietly leaving the room as he did his best to avoid all the eyes on him. 

Jesus, what a shit show that was. Mickey knows it's none of his business, but he kinda wishes there was something he could do to help. What that could possibly be, he has no idea. 

So he shakes it off and goes back to his breakfast. His pancakes are almost cold, and that pisses him off. 

"Oh my god. I feel so bad for him." Dexter says, popping a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth. 

"Who? Ian? I dunno, he didn't seem all that shaken up about it." Mickey replies without thinking. 

"Ian?" Dexter asks, catching onto Mickey's slip up immediately. "Do you know that guy? Mick, he's hot." 

"Yeah, and clearly on the rebound now." Jared added, nodding enthusiastically. 

"Fuck off." Mickey sighed. "What makes you think I'm even interested?" 

"Um, you remembered his name." Dexter replied, as if it were obvious. "How do you know him?" 

"He doesn't." Jared said. "He saw him save some guys life yesterday. Mickey's just a fangirl." 

"Again, fuck off." Mickey said. He stuffed another cold slice of pancake in his mouth and pointedly ignored his friends. 

"You should find him some time this weekend, Mickey." Dexter presses. "He clearly needs a little love right now." Dexter waggled his eyebrows. 

"Well, sucks to be him, then. Cuz love is the last thing I'm willing to give any one of these motherfuckers." 

"See." Jared said, smiling sweetly at Mickey. "You, my dear, are indeed dead inside." 

Mickey rolled his eyes, flipping Jared off with his free hand as he drained his drink with the other. 

Sure, he might be dead inside, but he's not stupid. And going after a dude who just got dumped is the last thing he'd ever do. Even if Ian is hot as fuck, the emotional baggage that goes along with that is clear. 

Hell, Ian is the perfect example. Ian was obviously that Leo guy's rebound, and the first opportunity Leo got, he went back to the guy he actually wanted. 

Mickey plays it off like he only cares about sex, but for the right guy he'd be willing to put the work in. And by the right guy, he means someone who actually wants HIM . He wasn't all about playing second fiddle to some prick, or being a placeholder until someone real came along. No thanks. He'll stick to his no-strings arrangements, until he meets someone that wants Mickey, and only Mickey. 

If that person even exists.

"Alright, assholes, let's get the fuck outta here. I wanna smoke and take a shower before my shift starts this afternoon." 

"You working the Raven room tonight?" Dexter asks, standing along with the other two men. Mickey nodded, leading them out of the restaurant and back toward their room. 

"Yeah, and that's where I belong. With the strong drinks and anonymous sex. This romance shit is for morons."

Dexter and Jared exchanged a look behind Mickey's back but were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. 

Mickey was over this whole weekend. He's not stupid, and he's not gonna start being stupid now. His friends can keep their romanticized bullshit, Mickey's a realist. 

And there's no love to be had for him. Not here, and not now.


	2. Romantic gestures and other out of character bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's day comes, and Mickey has a plan. Sort of...

Ian should have just gone home. He's glad he drove them here. Leo can find his own way home, with his fucking soulmate apparently. 

Ian sighs, laying his head in his hand. His fingers curl around his drink as the heavy bass of the music flows over him like the water flows a few feet away. 

He's been sitting by the pool for a little over an hour, drinking and quietly processing what happened this morning. The space is not as crowded as you would think. Ian supposes most of the couples are doing other activities. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, so the events are really starting up now. Ian heard about a dance contest in the Peacock room, an all male dance review in the Raven room, and a speed dating event over at the Black Swan. Ian's not into any of that shit. He just wants to sit around the pool sipping his beer until it's an appropriate hour to head down to the bar and really get plastered. What else is there for him to do, now that he's here alone? He's not interested in any matchmaking events. He's not even sure he's interested in hooking up at all. He's torn between locking himself in his room all weekend and drowning his sorrows in free booze, or hitting up every club on the property and drowning his sorrows in any hot mouth he can find.

He doesn't even know why he stayed at the resort after what happened at brunch. It probably would have been smart just to drive back to Chicago and put all this mess behind him. But Leo was right, Ian was already here, and it would have been a waste to go home without enjoying his weekend. If it's even possible to enjoy Valentine's Day after you've been ditched like a cheap whore.

It helps that Leo is footing the bill. That fact eased the sting of being dumped considerably. Ian's not even sure how he feels about being dumped at all. It's not like it was love or anything, Ian had his doubts long before Nicholas showed up. But he hadn't been ready to throw in the towel just yet. He has still had hope that it could have been something real. He'd been hopeful that Leo could have been someone he could settle down with, make a life. 

But maybe he'd just been kidding himself the whole time. Looking back it's pretty clear that neither of them were in it for the long haul. Leo was a nice distraction for a minute, but Ian was just having fun. And it seems now that Leo was just biding his time, hoping Nick would come back. Ian's happy for him, he really is. He hopes it works out this time. 

But where does that leave Ian? 

Sitting by the pool drinking alone, that's where. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a high pitched, girly scream. His eyes snap up just in time to see a blonde guy with tattoos all over his chest being tossed into the pool. There is a massive splash, and everyone in the vicinity starts howling with laughter. Ian watches, a small smile stretched over his own lips as the blonde surfaces from the water, sputtering and coughing. 

"Fuck you, Mick!" the guy laughs, splashing his assailant with pool water. Ian suddenly realizes he recognizes the man in the pool as the bartender from the other day, with Barry and David. Then that must mean....Ian's eyes shift over to the edge of the pool, and there he is. Mickey. The other bartender. The fucking hot one. Jesus. He looks even better without a shirt on. He's wet, for one. His black swim trunks really accentuated his body. His thick thighs and stacked ass. His bare chest was pale, adorned with a myriad of tattoos like his friend. Ian saw some strange abstract mess of lines along his rib cage that looked like broken glass. Ian could also make out what looked like a raven with spread wings on his chest. He had another on his left leg, his right arm, and some dotting his knuckles that Ian couldn't make out from this far away. 

Whatever they were, it worked for him. He looked fucking hot. Ian can't get over how gorgeous this guy is. He hasn't been this instantly attracted to someone in a long time. 

Ian watched as Mickey smiled, wide and uninhibited, and promptly canon-balled into the pool right on top of us sputtering friend. 

Ian laughed, watching Mickey and the other bartender tussle in the pool like children. They looked like they were having so much fun, and Ian is struck in that moment with the notion that he can't remember the last time he really had fun. 

He and Leo did stuff. Dates, whatnot. But it was always shit like stuffy four star restaurants with weird violin music, or museum exhibits. Nights at the theater, or book readings. Which is all well and good, but sometimes Ian just wants to let loose. 

Like this Mickey person and his friends are doing right now in the pool. Ian thinks one of the other ones looks familiar too, but he can't place him. Whoever they are, they are horsing around in the pool like they are the only one's in it, totally ignoring the dirty looks they are getting from the couples lounging poolside. It looks like fun. 

It looks like freedom. 

Just as Ian is losing himself in dark life introspection, Mickey glances over at him from the deep end of the pool. He catches Ian staring at him and smirks, quirking an eyebrow. Ian stares back, embarrassed to be caught out. He can feel his face heating up in a bright red blush, only intensifying his embarrassment. He looks away, sipping his beer. 

God, what the fuck? He clearly can't play it cool to save his life. 

When he glances back, he's shocked to find that Mickey is sauntering over to him, looking all wet and sexy. He has forgone a towel, and water is cascading down his chest and abs. He shakes his dark hair out like a dog, sending water flying in all directions. 

Ian's gaping like a fool as Mickey approaches him. It feels like a slow motion movie. All that's missing is the intense instrumental soundtrack. 

Mickey's smirking at him as he flops down in the chaise lounge next to Ian. He drops his towel, phone and cigarettes on the small table between them. 

"See something you like?" Mickey asks, and Ian just blushes harder. He smiles shyly, feeling like a teenage girl all of the sudden. 

Mickey knows its a bold move, walking over to Ian like this, especially after that mess at brunch. But Ian is hot as hell, and Mickey would be a god damn idiot to not at least try to talk to him while they're both at this resort. Mickey doesn't often come across dudes that strike him this way. He pushes away his misgivings about being a rebound. It doesn't have to be that deep. Sex with no strings is Mickey's specialty, after all.

When Ian doesn't reply right away, Mickey's confidence starts to splinter. He runs a hand through his wet hair, his fingers itching for a cigarette. It's so stupid you can't smoke at the pool. He clears his throat uncomfortably, ready to call it and makes a hasty retreat when Ian smiles at him and shrugs. 

"Maybe." Ian says, shamelessly raking his green eyes down Mickey's bare torso. 

Mickey smirks, confidence restored, and lets his own eyes take in the sexy ginger in front of him. He'd seen Ian earlier, and it was nice. The guy could wear the hell out of a button down and slacks, but that picture had nothing on a half naked Ian lounging poolside. The guy was pretty much pure muscle. From his toned arms down to his strong legs. He had broad shoulders and a six pack you could wash you laundry on. And that's not even considering his face. The fire red hair, the otherworldly green eyes. The smattering of faded freckles dusting his nose and cheekbones. Mickey's eyes catch on Ian's lips and he licks his own unconsciously. 

Yeah, he's going for it. 

"What happened with your guy?" Mickey asks, cutting right to the chase. No reason to beat around the bush. If Ian is still involved with that dude, Mickey's just wasting his time. 

"You were there." Ian sighed, grabbing his beer and taking a long sip. "You saw it. His ex showed up and they decided to try again." 

"Shit, man." Mickey said sympathetically. That had to suck. "You doing okay?" 

"Yeah, it's not even that big a deal. We'd only been dating for a couple months, and I already kinda had one foot out the door." 

Mickey chuckled, arching an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Then what are you doing up here then? You make a habit of taking romantic weekends away with guys you don't really like?" 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, but have you looked around? Who would say no to a free weekend full of all this?" Ian swept his hand out, highlighting the pool area, full of gay men horse playing and lounging around. 

Mickey grinned at Ian. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point." 

"What about you?" Ian asks, taking a sip of his beer as he turned in his seat to face Mickey better. "You work full time at the resort? You from around here?" 

Mickey smiled, weighing his options. He could be honest, or he could embellish a little. He usually chose the latter when he was talking up potential fucks. No one wanted to hear Mickey's macabre sob story of a childhood, or his long an arduous journey from scumbag jailbird to semi-respectable working man. 

His usual cover story was on the tip of his tongue. Some bullshit about being born in Michigan and moving to Evanston. It was a blatant lie, but the dudes he banged never knew that. 

But he was struck with the odd desire to be honest with Ian. That's never happened to him before. He decides on a whim to just go with it. It won't be the end of the world if Ian is totally turned off and walks away without another word. (although that would suck) 

"I'm not from around here." Mickey shook his head. "Just come up when Twilight does events here. I work for Aaron and Jace back in Chicago. I'm from Bridgeport." 

"Wait." Ian said, sitting up and scooting closer to Mickey. "You're from Bridgeport? Chicago?" when Mickey gave him a quizzical look and nodded, Ian beamed at him. "I'm from Canaryville. Gallagher, Ian Gallagher." 

"No shit." Mickey laughed, suddenly pretty damn glad he went with the truth. "Small world, I guess." 

"How come I never saw you around? You grew up down there?" 

Mickey nodded, running his fingers along his lower lip. "Yeah, but I dropped outta school at fifteen and spent most of my teen years locked up. I highly doubt we ran with the same crews anyway." 

Ian nodded, taking in the other man in a whole new light. Now that Ian knew Mickey was south side, his attitude and appearance made perfect sense. And it honestly turned him the fuck on.  


Just as Ian was about to suggest they leave the pool and go somewhere to talk, Mickey grabbed his phone off the table and frowned at the screen. "Shit." he muttered. 

"What?" Ian asked. 

"I've gotta work in like forty minutes. I gotta head back to my room and shower and shit." 

"Oh, okay." Ian glanced back toward the pool, trying to mask his disappointment. 

"Hey, uh, you wanna maybe stop by? Tonight's event's stupid as fuck, but you could probably drink for free all night." 

Ian laughed, nodding without thought. "Yeah, that would be great. Which bar are you working at?" 

"I'm down at the Raven room tonight. Have you been down there yet?" 

"Nah, that wasn't really Leo's scene." Ian shook his head. "I think his exact words were 'Just an excuse to grind on half naked strangers and put narcotics up your nose.'" 

Mickey burst out laughing, throwing his head back and howling. Wow, Ian's ex was a tool. 

Ian laughed along, totally taken with Mickey's smile. God he was fucking gorgeous. "He said that shit?" Mickey giggled. "I mean, it's not untrue." 

"He also said it's reminiscent of Crowbar. I used to love that bar, but I haven't been to a single club in months. Leo wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that." 

"You've got to be shitting me." Mickey chuckled, totally shocked by Ian's words. 

"What?" Ian asked, confused. 

"That's my bar, dude. I work there almost every night. I mean, Andy sends me to his other spots sometimes, but I'm there more often than not." 

"No way." Ian replied, regarding Mickey skeptically. "Seriously. How come I never saw you there?" 

"Well, I've only been there a few months. I used to tend bar at the Sandlot. That sports bar in the financial district. But the tips are way better at the fag bars." 

Ian chuckled, eyebrows raised. Mickey was so brash, but it charmed Ian right down to his toes. His eyes caught Mickey's and they just stared at each other for a minute, smiling like idiots. 

"Okay then." Mickey said, standing. "So maybe I'll see you down there later." he smiled once more at Ian, giving him a small wave as he tossed his towel over his shoulder and made his way out of the pool area.

Ian watched him go, grinning like a madman the whole time. 

What a most pleasant, unexpected development that was. 

Maybe the weekend wasn't going to be such a waste after all....

 

***

 

Later that night found Mickey behind the bar in the Raven room. It was fucking Bedlam. It was the night before Valentine's day and the house was packed with wall to wall fags. Mickey doesn't know how the other bars are doing tonight. He imagines they are doing alright, but there is no way they are as busy as the Raven Room. Mickey has barely had a second to breathe since he clocked in four hours ago. He's almost done for the night, however. Sometimes he wonders if Aaron has a boner for him or something, since he's always giving Mickey the best hours out of all the guys. But he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Speaking of gifts, Mickey can't keep his eyes off Ian. He'd wandered into the Raven room about an hour ago, alternating between shaking his ass on the dance floor and flirting with Mickey at the bar. 

Mickey can't say he minds the attention. 

He's currently watching Ian dancing with some random in the middle of the dance floor. Mickey pours a shot absentmindedly as his eyes greedily soak in the vision of Ian grinding on the dance floor. His head is back, eyes closed, his hands high in the air as his hips roll to the beat. The multi-colored lights of the club dance along his face, making him look ethereal. 

Unfortunately, Mickey's too busy to just sit around and stare at Ian all night. His head whips up when someone snaps their fingers in his face. 

"Rum and coke." the man says. 

"Snap at me again, and you'll lose your fucking fingers." Mickey replies conversationally, pouring the drink. He passes it over to the man, smirking when the man nods and slinks away with a quiet 'thank you.'

The bar is so busy, Mickey loses sight of Ian all together. The Raven Room is hopping, there's no other way to describe it. He glances up at the clock. 10:30. The last act of the night will be going on any minute. Once the set is done, last call is right around the corner, and Mickey can finally have some fun of his own. 

He's not working tomorrow, which is weird to him. Valentine's Day is the whole reason he came up here. But Aaron had dropped a bomb on the boys earlier. He and Jace had decided last minute to get a crew of roided up, half naked beefcakes to work the bars on the holiday. They had it stuck in their heads that hotter bartenders would attract more patrons. So that left Mickey with a whole day open on this trip, which he had no anticipated. Not that he minds. 

He's going to start his impromptu day off with a drink, as soon as this shift is over. He catches sight of Ian pushing his way through the crowd and smiles. Maybe he'll see if Ian wants to hang out tomorrow. 

Is that weird? Asking a guy he just met to hang out on Valentine's Day? Mickey doesn't know. He's never really gave the holiday much thought, content to let the over-commercialized, over-romanticized day pass him by quietly. 

But...he's already up here, and he knows Ian has no plans. He can't believe Ian's dude would do that to him. Drag him all the way up here, and leave him hanging to run off with an ex. That shit is cold.

Ian doesn't seem to mind, however, if the wide smile splitting his lips is any indication. 

"Hey Mick." Ian calls over the music. He leans heavily against the bar, still smiling. His eyes slip closed and he almost falls off his stool. 

"Whoa. Careful." Mickey replies, reaching out to steady Ian so he doesn't face plant onto the dirty bar floor. 

"Why are you working?" Ian asks, suddenly pouty. "Come dance." 

"Okay, one, I'm working cuz it's my job. And two, I don't dance." Mickey smirks. Ian has clearly had one too many. He's kinda cute when he's drunk. 

"Booo!" Ian replies, giving Mickey two enthusiastic thumbs down. "I bet I could make you dance." 

"Doubt it." Mickey replies, although he's not so sure. He has a sinking feeling he'd do a lot of stupid shit for this dude. 

That notion is troubling to say the least. 

"Come ooon..." Ian whines, losing his balance once more. He starts to slide off the stool and Mickey acts without thinking. He jumps over the bar, landing next to Ian and wrapping his arm around his waist. 

"Hey." Ian smiles, turning in Mickey's arms so their faces are inches apart. 

"I'm taking you back to your room." Mickey decides, throwing Ian's arm over his shoulder and starting the arduous journey across the bar. "Dex!" I'll be right back." 

Dexter glances up from the shots he's pouring to give Mickey a salacious grin. "Take your time, Mick." he waggles his eyebrows, pointing towards an oblivious Ian and shooting Mickey some obscene hand gestures. 

"Fuck off." Mickey calls back, throwing a middle finger over his shoulder as he pilots Ian through the sea of gyrating men and toward the door. 

He struggles to get Ian down the hallway, and the drunken ginger is not helping at all. Ian's leaning heavily on Mickey, babbling incoherently and dragging his feet along the carpet. 

"You're so pretty." Ian giggles, pitching sideways and almost colliding with the wall. 

"Shut up." Mickey replies without heat as he drags Ian to his feet once more and resumes their slow motion crawl down the hallway. "Where's your cabin, Ian?" 

Ian stops dead in the hallway, glancing around in all directions like that will help him remember. His brow is furrowed and he starts tapping the side of his head like he's trying to jog a memory loose. "Oak tree?" he replies, completely confounding Mickey. 

"God damn it." Mickey huffs, shoving Ian up against the nearest wall. He pins Ian to the drywall with one hand and immediately goes for his front pocket. 

"Mickey, if you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask." Ian chuckles, watching Mickey frisk him like a cop. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, finally plucking the key card from Ian's pocket. "I am not going to make a move on you when you're plastered like this. What kinda guy do you think I am?"

Ian only snickered in reply, falling heavily against Mickey as the stumbled toward the front entrance of the resort. 

It was bitterly cold outside. The wind was whipping hard off the lake, stirring snow into their faces as the made their way down the path to the Oak building.

"Brrr. Cold." Ian grumbled, cuddling closer to Mickey as he dragged him down the path. 

"No shit. It's fucking February." Mickey replied, finally depositing a difficult Ian on his doorstep. He slid Ian's card through the slot in the door and shouldered his way inside, still balancing Ian against his side. 

Once they crossed the threshold, Mickey kicked the door shut and made a beeline for Ian's bed. He dumped the intoxicated red head onto his mattress, smiling when Ian starfishes out across the quilts with a big smile on his face, eyes closed. 

"Okay then." Mickey said, mostly to himself. His good deed was done. He should go. 

But watching Ian rolling around on the bed all grumpy while he tried to undress without standing up was just too distracting. 

Ian groaned, kicking his feet. "Off." he grumbled. 

Mickey smiled, sauntering over to the bed. "Alright, alright. Calm down." Mickey mumbled, trying and failing to temper his smile. He stood at the foot of the bed and wrenched Ian's shoes off. "Sit up." he said, huffing out a laugh when Ian groaned. 

Ian struggled to a seated position and Mickey unbuttoned his dress shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and dropping it on the floor. After Ian was free of his shirt, he fell back to the bed with a giggle. 

Mickey sighed, quickly unzipping Ian's pants and pulling them off, letting them fall on top of his shirt. He decided it would be safest for everyone if he left Ian's wife beater and boxers where they were. He pulled the covers up to Ian's chin, patting him on the head affectionately. 

"There, safe and sound." Mickey murmured, smiling. Ian grinned up at him, nodding. 

"You don't want to stay?" Ian asked, patting the other side of the bed. "C'mon, you know you want to stay." 

"I'm still working. Gotta get back." 

"Eh. Stay." Ian frowned. "I want to kiss you. Stay so I can kiss you." 

Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. "You're drunk. You're not kissing anyone." 

"I wanted to kiss you before I was drunk." Ian disagreed, shaking his head. "Let me kiss you." 

Mickey looked down at Ian, looking drunkenly adorable making grabby hands at him. "C'mere." 

"Can't." Mickey said, sticking to his guns. "Won't." 

"You're no fun." Ian whined. "What about tomorrow? Can I kiss you tomorrow?" 

Mickey laughed, shrugging. "I'm not the boss of you, am I?" 

"Nope." Ian grinned. "So can I see you tomorrow? Which bar are you gonna be at?" 

"No bar. I'm gonna be staying as far away from all the bars as possible." 

Ian hummed, cuddling down into his bed. "I'm gonna find you." he mumbled sleepily. "I'm gonna find you, and I'm gonna kiss you." 

"Whatever, Gallagher. Get some rest." Mickey laughed, reluctantly making his way to the door. "Sweet dreams."

Ian didn't respond, his eyes already closed. Mickey allowed himself a few moment to just watch Ian sleep before he crossed the line into 'creepy' territory. He left Ian's key card on the nightstand and left the room, locking the door behind him. 

As he made his way back to the madness of the Raven room, his thoughts kept circling back to Ian. 

For the first time in his life, Mickey wasn't dreading Valentine's Day.

Imagine that. 

 

***

 

Ian woke up in his suite, alone. He was in his underwear, tucked under the comforter. He glanced around the room and saw his clothes neatly folded in the arm chair. He hummed, sitting up slowly. He checks his phone, surprised to find he slept past noon. 

He'd gone pretty hard last night. He doesn't do that much anymore. Alcohol doesn't always mix so well with his meds, making him sloppy and impulsive. His memories of the previous night are fuzzy, and he has to really rake his memory to recall how he got back to his cabin at all. 

When it dawns on him, he groans, running a palm down his face. Embarrassment floods his body as he climbs out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. 

It's not that he regrets flirting with Mickey, but he wishes he'd done it when he was sober, and not a bumbling drunken mess. Mickey must think he's a total moron now. Wonderful. 

Ian turns on the shower, closing the glass door while he waits for the water to heat up. He brushes his teeth and takes his meds, silently chastising himself the whole time. 

His self-deprecating thoughts run on loop in his brain as he stands under the hot water, washing off the sweat and booze from last night. He made an utter fool of himself, and he's not sure how he's going to go about redeeming himself now. He knows he has to try, at least. 

There is just something about the bartender that intrigues Ian. Talking to him is easy. He's funny and sexy and obviously a gentleman. He dragged Ian all the way back to his room last night. 

Mickey said he wasn't working today, Ian does remember that. Now all he has to do is find him, somewhere in this sprawling resort. 

His mind made up, Ian finishes his shower, ready to put his plan into action. He wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way back into the main room. 

He dresses quickly, mulling over where he could possibly find Mickey when a knock on his door draws his attention. He pulls his hoodie over his head as he makes his way over to the door, swinging it open. He smiles when he sees Mickey standing on the other side, holding two paper cups. 

"Hey, I was just going to go look for you." Ian says, stepping aside so Mickey could come in. He smiled as Mickey handed him one of the cups and sat on the couch. 

"Well, I wanted to make sure you survived the night." Mickey replied, smirking. "Brought you coffee." 

Ian gave Mickey a sheepish smile, taking a sip of his drink. "Thank you." he smiles, licking his lips. "This is good coffee."

"Yeah, grabbed it from the Peacock room on my way over. That stuffy shit is not my scene, but they make a mean cup of coffee. It's not too sweet, is it? I didn't know how you took it, so I just had them make them both how I like it." 

Ian took another sip, grinning. "It's good. I like sweet." 

Mickey hummed, nodding. He let his eyes sweep across Ian's chest before locking eyes with him. "I like sweet too." 

Ian could feel himself blushing under Mickey's heated gaze. He cleared his throat, figuring he should clear the air. "Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I drank too much, clearly." 

"Don't apologize." Mickey shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. Honestly, you're kinda cute when you're all drunk. You think you've got mad game, but really you're just a puppy. You pouted so hard when I told you I wouldn't kiss you." Mickey chuckled at the memory, watching Ian blush like a tomato. 

"Well, I AM sorry. I don't usually drink that much, and my mouth just kind of runs when I get like that. I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position." Ian took a sip of his coffee, avoiding Mickey's eyes. 

"It wasn't awkward." Mickey shook his head. "Just stop. It wasn't a big deal. I just didn't want you to do anything you might regret in the morning." 

Ian opened his mouth to protest, but Mickey put his hand up, silencing him. "Besides, if you're going to kiss me, I want you to remember it." 

Ian smiled, relieved. Okay, so he didn't fuck it all up. There's still a chance. 

"So, you still wanna hang out today, or?" Mickey asked, running his fingers along his upper lip. He's not sure why he's nervous, Ian was all over him last night. 

"Yeah." Ian nodded eagerly. "I for sure wanna hang out today." Ian saw no point in playing coy. He'd already made an utter fool of himself the previous night, and Mickey had come back for more. That has to mean something, right? "What did you have in mind." 

Mickey gave Ian a small smile, shrugging. He's not sure if his plan is going to be well received. He honestly has no idea what Ian's into. He's pretty much just winging it. "I thought we'd take one of the snowmobiles out. There's a little cabin along the shore of the lake, no one ever goes up there. Me, Jarod and Dex found it by accident while we were up here last year. Fucking snowshoeing. Never doing that shit again." Mickey shivered dramatically at the memory. 

Ian chuckled, nodding. "That actually sounds pretty awesome." 

Mickey grinned back at him, relieved. "Okay then, you ready or what? I only have the snowmobile rented for a few hours." 

Ian took a step closer, curling his palm around Mickey's hip. He stepped up to him, smiling down into Mickey's wide blue eyes. "I'm ready." he said lowly. "Lead the way."

Mickey cleared his throat, nodding as he took a step back. Jesus, Ian could turn him a mess with just one look. This didn't bode well for Mickey at all. 

 

***

 

The snowmobiles were lined up along the back side of the resort. Mickey wandered over to the only black on in the line. He checked the storage spot in the back, making sure all the shit he stowed there earlier was where he left it. Once he was sure they were all set, he gave Ian a little grin, pulling a key ring from his jacket pocket. He turned the key, pressed the kill switch to the ON position, and pulled up on the choke. After he put his helmet on, Mickey straddled the machine, glancing back at Ian. "C'mon. Get on." 

Ian shrugged, wedging his helmet onto his head and climbing on the machine behind Mickey. Ian's never been on a snowmobile before. It's not that he doesn't trust Mickey, he's just not sure he trusts a rusty bunch of metal not to fly apart on him at 40 miles per hour. 

But he's no pussy, so he pushes those irrational worries to the back of his mind and just wraps his arms around Mickey's waist as tightly as he can. 

"Hold on." Mickey calls back to him before revving the engine and blasting off down the path through the forest. Ian tightens his arms around Mickey's waist, taken aback by how fast they are really going. The scenery whips by him as he struggles to keep his eyes open against the whipping wind. He decides belatedly that he should have dropped his visor down before they took off. 

Oh well. Too late now. 

Ian smiles, despite the brutal cold. His eyes are watering, but he doesn't want to close them, too enthralled with the world flying by him at warp speed. The lake looks gorgeous in the afternoon sun. The snow and icy water glittering beautifully. The trees are covered in a crust of ice that makes them look like they are dipped in diamond dust. 

They fly under a low hanging fir branch. Mickey ducks just in time, but Ian takes a face full of snow and pine needles. 

"Don't forget to duck." Mickey calls back to him, admittedly way too late. Ian sputters, spitting pine needles all over his jacket as Mickey continues down the path. 

After the pine tree incident, Ian tucks his face against Mickey's back, content to watch the world fly by from behind the safety of Mickey's shoulder. Before he knows it, Mickey is slowing, then pulling to a stop. Ian slowly picks his head up, squinting in the bright sun. 

Mickey wasn't joking. It's a cabin. In the woods. He's not sure how far they are from the resort, but it feels like a world away. 

Mickey turns off the sled and climbs off. As Ian stumbles off beside him, Mickey once again goes digging into the storage bag and pulling out a long propane lighter and a sliver flask. "I, uh, came by here yesterday and set up the fire pit, hoping you'd say yes to coming out here at some point." Mickey feels strange admitting that, uncomfortable with Ian knowing he's been thinking of him this whole time. But he tries to let that shit go. He didn't come up here this weekend looking for anything more sex and free booze, but now that he's met Ian, he's surprised to find he wants more than just an orgasm. 

He feels like that should worry him for some reason, but he finds that he's not nervous at all. Being around Ian is easy, and Mickey's usual defenses are down, leaving only uncharacteristic optimism and excitement.

Ian sits down on a wooden bench near the fire pit, smiling. "This is actually really cool." he looks around the spot, taking it all in. "What's with the cabin, though?" 

Mickey shrugs, handing Ian the flask and crouching down in front of the fire. He douses it with a small bottle of lighter fluid he brought with him, not wanting to bother with trying and failing to light a fire the old fashioned way. "The cabin is fucked. The roof is caved in, animals and shit living in there. So we're stuck out here, hope you don't mind." 

"I don't mind at all." Ian replied, taking a sip off the flask. Bourbon. Whoa. "Don't drink too much of this, we still gotta get back." he passed the flask to Mickey, watching as he took a sip of his own and set the flask in the snow as he lit the fire. 

"No worries, Gallagher, I'll get you back in one piece." Mickey smirked up at him, moving some kindling around as the fire started to catch. 

Ian grinned at Mickey, unable to temper his excitement. Mickey might be wrong, however. Ian has a feeling he won't be leaving this place whole at all. He already feels utterly shattered under Mickey's bright blue gaze. 

Mickey gets the fire roaring, turning to face Ian with a bright smile on his face. "Huh? Not bad, right?" 

"Not bad at all." Ian laughs, scooting over so Mickey can sit next to him on the bench. The sit there for a few long minutes, passing the flask and watching the fire dance before them. "This is really cool." Ian says, glancing over toward Mickey only to find him already watching him. 

"Yeah?" Mickey asks, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He's never tried impress someone before, and he really doesn't know the first thing about dating or romance. "I thought after we could go back to the resort after and have dinner." 

"You have reservations at one of the clubs?" Ian asked, surprised for some reason. That didn't seem like something Mickey would be into. 

"Not exactly." Mickey replied cryptically. "I have a friend who's gonna hook me up." he ran a hand along his mouth, glancing up at Ian before fixing his eyes on the fire. "If you'd be into that." God, he sounds like a fucking idiot. 

"Yeah, I would." Ian replies, surprising Mickey. Mickey looks up, locking eyes with Ian. 

"Really?" Mickey can't help but be skeptical. He's so out of his element right now, he figured Ian would laugh in his face. A guy like Ian could get anyone he wanted. Mickey honestly felt like Ian was way out of his league.

"Yeah." Ian nodded slowly. "What? Did you really think I'd say no?" 

Mickey shrugged, avoiding Ian's eyes. He stared into the fire, letting the warmth and crackling wood soothe him. 

"Mickey, I think you're amazing. You have to know that." Ian said, gripping Mickey under the chin and twisting his face so their eyes were locked again. "You have been nothing but completely sweet and kind to me since we met. You made sure I got back to my cabin safe last night, you have listened to me bitching about that stupid shit with Leo, and you went out of your way to make sure I didn't spend Valentine's Day up here alone." Ian laid a hand on the side of Mickey's neck, squeezing the muscle. "I think it's fair to say at this point that you are awesome, and I'm into you." 

Mickey laughed, horrified when he felt his neck break out in a warm blush. "Well, you're not so bad yourself." 

Ian smiled, his eyes fliting all over Mickey's face. "I'm going to kiss you now." 

Mickey grinned at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't know, you've had like two shots of bourbon, I don't want you to..." Mickey words were cut off when Ian gripped him hard around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

Mickey gasped, taken by surprise, but caught on quickly. He turned on the log, curling his fingers around the back of Ian's neck, keeping him close. 

Ian smiled, utterly overwhelmed by the moment. He wrapped his free hand around Mickey's waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. 

Mickey's whole body is alight. That's the only way to explain it. His skin feels hot, his chest is tight, warmth swirling in his rib cage as Ian kisses him senseless.

Ian can fucking kiss. His lips are soft, and he tastes incredible. Ian kisses with his whole body, and Mickey is enthralled. In reality he knows it's a simple kiss, but it feels like so much more. 

The thought gives him pause, and he moves to pull back, but Ian's not having it. He threads his fingers into the short hairs on the back of Mickey's head, stilling him. "What?" he whispered against Mickey's lips. 

"Just feels so good." Mickey replied quietly. He's not even sure what he's saying, totally overwrought by the intensity of the moment. 

"Yeah." Ian agrees, smiling. "It does." with that he tightens his grip around Mickey, pulling him as close as he can. Mickey smiles, figuring 'fuck it.' He's here now, and he's not going to talk himself out of a good thing. He's not going to do the same shit he always does. 

He's going to go for it. 

With that thought, he turned on the bench, swinging his leg over Ian's lap. He settled on top of the startled ginger, grinning down at him. "This feels better, though." he muttered, sinking his fingers into Ian's hair and deepening the kiss. It's intense, yet gentle, Mickey's tongue darting into Ian's smiling mouth, lips languidly moving against each other. 

Ian slid his hands down Mickey's back to rest on his hips. He dug his fingers into the meat of Mickey's thighs, groaning at the feeling of Mickey on top of him. 

"Shit." he whispered, his whole body tight with arousal. He was getting hard fast, his entire being practically vibrating with desire. 

Time slips away as they lose themselves in the moment. Soon, Mickey is shivering despite the heat radiating between them. 

Ian pulls back, blinking his eyes open. He glances up into Mickey's face to find the other man already staring down at him. Mickey's face is flushed, from the cold or lust, Ian couldn't tell. His bright blue eyes were almost all pupil. His smiling lips red and swollen. Ian flexed his fingers on Mickey's hips, opening his mouth to speak when Mickey's phone started blaring, shattering the silence between them. 

"Shit." Mickey said, standing quickly. "Gotta go." he turned toward the fire, subtly adjusting his boner as he grabbed up some snow and started tossing it on the flames. "Gotta bring the sled back." 

"Ah, okay." Ian replied, standing also. He was not looking forward to the ride back. Straddling the snow machine with Mickey's ass pressed against his hard on was going to be a tad embarrassing. He grabbed Mickey's flask, taking one last sip before tossing it in the open storage compartment and scooping his helmet out of the snow. 

By the time Mickey was done dousing the fire, Ian was seated on the snowmobile and waiting to go. Mickey smirked at him, starting the machine and revving the engine. "You ready?"

"Yeah, Mick. I'm ready." Ian said, curling his arms around Mickey's waist. 

And Ian was ready. He was ready for whatever this night, and Mickey, had to offer. 

 

***

 

"So, what are we doing?" Ian asked, as Mickey lead him through the halls at the back of the main building. It was quieter in the back, lacking the hustle and bustle of the active event spaces. Every once in a while they'd walk by another employee who would smile and nod in passing. Ian hasn't been back here, but Mickey knows his way around. 

"I've got a friend in the kitchen who's gonna hook us up." Mickey says, darting down a narrow hallway, Ian right behind him. "I thought we'd go back to your room, since Dex and Jared are probably having some kind of kinky sex party in mine tonight. Valentine's day turns those two assholes into the biggest sluts." 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. "I mean, the holiday does bring out the romantic in everyone, right?"

Mickey chuckled, giving Ian the most incredulous look he could muster. "Trust me, there won't be any romance going on over there. Threesomes? Maybe. Hell, fisting is more probable than romance." 

"Jesus." Ian laughed, his face twisted into a disgusted grimace. "I didn't need that visual." 

Mickey just shrugged like it couldn't be helped. "Stay here." he said, stopping outside a set of double doors. Ian leaned up against the hallway wall while Mickey slipped inside the room. Ian could hear the chaotic sounds of a busy kitchen on the other side of the doors. Curious, he looked in the small glass window and saw a bunch of guys moving quickly around the kitchen, holding steaming pots and screaming at each other. 

After a few minutes, Mickey emerged from the kitchen with a paper bag in one hand and an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. 

"Where did you get that?" Ian asked, falling into step behind Mickey and following him back the way they came. 

"Dude owed me a favor." Mickey replied cryptically. He has no idea what he's doing, and he's nervous he's fucking it up. He'd done something completely out of character and asked his friend for advice. Dexter had told him just to do whatever he'd like someone to do for him. 

Now Mickey's worried it won't be enough. 

But he can't do shit about that now, he's just going to have to go with his gut and hope for the best.

They making their way through the lobby when someone calls Mickey's name. Both men stop, turning in the hallway. 

"Mick, where the hell have you been?" Dexter asks, bounding over. He's clearly drunk, dragging a tipsy Jared behind him. "We're going to see the Queens of Chicago show, come with us." 

"Nah, man." Mickey shook his head, smiling. "How drunk are you if you think I'd ever say yes to a god damn drag show?" 

"Come ON!" Dexter whined. "We haven't done any fun shit together all weekend." 

"And this would not be fun." Mickey replied, rolling his eyes. 

"Hey, I know you." Jared said, stepping up to Ian. He glanced between Ian and Mickey, a bright, wide smile splitting his lips. "You're the doctor." he poked Ian in the chest before spinning to get right in Mickey's face. "Mick." he stage whispered. "This is the married doctor." 

"Um, not a doctor, and certainly not married. I'm Ian." Ian said, cocking a single eyebrow at Mickey's drunk friend. 

"No doctor?" Jared asked, wobbling on his feet. "Well, you should be a doctor. You saved that guy's life." 

Ian nodded, smiling at Mickey's irritated face. "Thanks, man." 

Mickey sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ian, this is Jared and Dexter. We tend bar together." 

"Oh, Mick, don't be like that." Dexter giggled, grinning at Ian. "We're his best friends in the whole world. He'd be lost without us." 

Mickey rolled his eyes, giving Ian his best 'you believe this shit?' look. Ian just smiled. He thought Mickey's friends were pretty nice. He could see himself getting along with them. He didn't let that train of thought go any further, not wanting to get ahead of himself. 

"Okay, guys, we're going." Mickey said, moving to step around his friends. 

"Ooooh!" Jared squealed. "Is this a thing?" he asked, motioning between Mickey and Ian with a salacious grin on his face. "Please, tell me it's a thing! You guys are adorable together. Way cuter than the suit you were with a brunch." he said to Ian, face suddenly very serious. 

"Oh my god." Mickey muttered. "Shut up." 

Dexter smiled at Ian, maneuvering an increasingly unsteady Jared down the hall. "Sorry, he's had one too many margaritas. It was nice to meet you, Ian. We should get together some time when we're all a little more sober." with that he grabbed Jared's wrist and started pulling him toward the Raven room. The whole way down the hallway, Ian and Mickey could hear the men chatting loudly about how cute they were together. 

Ian was inclined to agree. 

 

***

 

They are feet from Ian's suite door, passing the last of the flask whiskey between them when someone calls out Mickey's name for the second time during their journey. Mickey sighed, turning on the stone path and surprisingly coming face to face with his bosses. 

"Mickey, fancy meeting you here." Aaron smiled, wrapping his arm around his husband and pulling him close. "Figured you'd be hitting the bars on your night off with your little tribe of lost boys." 

"Nah." Mickey laughed, shaking his head. He took an unconscious step closer to Ian. "I was just going to stay in. I think I've had enough of the bar scene for the weekend." 

"It can get exhausting." Jace agreed, putting his hand out for Ian to shake. "Hi, I'm Jace, and this is my husband Aaron. Are you a friend of our little Mickey's?" 

Ian shook both men's hands, smiling. "Well, I'd like to think so." Ian replied, grinning over at Mickey. He knew he looked like a smitten idiot, but he didn't give a damn. "We just met this weekend." 

Aaron and Jace shared a look before glancing between the two young men in front of them. 

"You know." Aaron said, pulling Jace closer and laying a small kiss to his cheek. "Jace and I met at a retreat like this, what, almost ten years ago now. You never know how drastically your life can change over the course of one day." 

Mickey shuffled his feet on the sidewalk, rubbing his upper lip with his fingers to hide his smile. He could feel his face heating up again. Aaron was about as subtle as a brick to the face. 

"Well, we'll let you go. Is this your cabin?" Jace asked, pointing to Ian's room behind them. 

"Yeah." Ian replied, a little confused by the question. 

"Well you guys better get inside, it's freezing out here." Aaron smiled, leading his husband away and down the path. "Have a good night, you two." 

"Yeah, see ya." Mickey called to them, following Ian inside. "Sorry. That was weird." he remarked after Ian shut the door behind them. 

"Not at all." Ian disagreed. "They seem nice." 

Mickey nodded with a smile, unable to hide his affection for his bosses. "They're alright." 

Ian led Mickey into the suite's living area. He kicked his shoes off, pulling his hoodie over his head and tossing it on the chair. He wandered over to the couch, dropping down heavily on it while Mickey stood in front of the kitchen table. He placed the whiskey down on the table before opening the bag and pulling two wrapped sandwiches from inside. 

"I hope you weren't expecting something super fancy. I just had Julio in the kitchen make us a couple of subs. I have Italian and roast beef." Mickey said, turning to Ian with the sandwiches in his hand. "Dealer's choice." 

"Italian." Ian said, smiling at Mickey when he handed the sandwich over. 

"I was hoping you'd say that." Mickey grinned. He grabbed two glasses from a cabinet, filling them with whiskey, handing one to Ian and siting next to him on the couch. 

They eat in companionable silence, stealing glances at each other as they devour their meals. They finish their sandwiches and two glasses of whiskey each before anyone spoke again. 

It's Mickey who breaks the silence. "So, that life saving shit you pulled at brunch. Where'd you learn to do that?" 

Ian is surprised by the question. He glances over at Mickey, shrugging. "I took some first aid courses at work. I'm an executive assistant at Leo's firm. Guess I might wanna start looking for another office to work at." Ian hadn't really thought about that, but the thought of seeing Leo every day was unappealing to say the least. 

"Why don't you do that shit?" Mickey asked, pulling a joint out of his cigarette case and twirling it between his fingers. "You were a fucking natural man." 

Ian smiled, blushing. It's not often someone compliments Ian on something besides his looks. "You think? I never really thought about it, but I always kinda wanted to help people. Have a bit of a hero complex, I guess." he decides not to tell Mickey about his army dreams or his bipolar disorder just yet. They aren't quite there, and Ian wants to see if this thing between them is more than a passing fancy before he bares his soul. 

"Yeah, man." Mickey nodded. "I think you'd be a kick ass paramedic. EMT, whatever. You sure as shit kept your cool. I was afraid Jared was gonna piss his pants." 

Ian laughed, nodding. "Thank you." 

Mickey waved him off, sparking the joint and taking a long drag before passing it to Ian. 

"What about you?" Ian asked, his voice strained from holding in his hit. "You have any big dreams beyond bar tending?" 

Mickey shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Shit, he didn't think this through. He should have known asking Ian about his aspirations would lead to him having to reveal his own. Mickey's not good at this shit. He never really dreamed of something better when he was a kid, resigned to the fact that his life would be shit forever. Now that things are different for him, he still has a hard time wanting more for himself. He almost feels like he doesn't deserve it. 

"Oh come on. There must be something you want." Ian goaded, passing the joint back. 

Mickey could feel his face heating up. He shrugged again. "I've been talking to Jace and Aaron about maybe managing one of the bars." 

"Really?" Ian asked, smiling. "That's a lot of work, and responsibility." Ian was impressed. His older sister Fiona managed a diner, and it was a shit ton of work. She was always super stressed out.

"Yeah, but I don't mind the work. Besides I like bossing people around, so...." Mickey grinned, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Yeah?" Ian asked, inching closer to Mickey on the couch. "You like being bossy?" he reached out, sliding his hand along Mickey's thigh. 

Mickey laughed, leaning in. "I mean, when the situation calls for it." 

"Good to know." Ian whispered, curling his hand around Mickey's hip and pulling him flush against his chest. Their legs tangled together as Ian leaned over Mickey's body, unable to get close enough. 

Mickey chuckled, tipping his head back, anticipation burning through his body. Their eyes locked, and Mickey smiled, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Ian's. Ian's lips were chapped, but so warm. He felt so good, pressed against Mickey's body. Mickey was hot all over, his body tingling with excitement. Ian has the oddest effect on Mickey's body. He's never felt anything like it. 

It's pretty fucking incredible. 

Ian made a low sound, darting his tongue past Mickey's lips. Mickey tangled his fingers in Ian's hair, tilting his head for better access. Their tongues met again and again, the kiss slow and purposeful. 

"Mickey." Ian spoke into the space between them. "I want you. God, I want you so bad."

Mickey nodded, falling back against the couch cushions and pulling Ian down on top of him. Ian settled heavily over Mickey's body, electrified everywhere they touched. He leaned down, kissing Mickey again, his hand sliding down his rib cage to settle on his hip. The kiss was needy, tongues and lips working against each other faster and harder. 

Mickey broke away to breathe and Ian took the opportunity to latch onto Mickey's neck. The bite of Ian's teeth on the soft flesh of Mickey's throat had him gasping, his dick straining in his jeans. He's been keyed up since the moment by the fire, and it doesn't take much at all to bring him to that level of desperation again. He rocked up, grinding his erection against Ian's, grinning at the quiet moan that slipped past Ian's lips. 

Ian trailed his lips down Mickey's neck, biting and sucking his way to Mickey's collar bone. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Mickey's shirt, exposing more skin for him to taste. He finally got the buttons undone, throwing the shirt open to expose Mickey's pale, tattooed skin.

Mickey's eyes were closed, head tipped back as he tried to control his breathing. He was so turned on, he felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He trailed his hands down Ian's back, dragging his fingernails along the fabric of Ian's shirt. His hands came to rest on Ian's ass, cupping his cheeks as Ian rolled his hips, thrusting down against Mickey's hard cock. 

"You feel so good." Ian murmured, running his tongue along one of Mickey's nipples. He swirled his tongue around the peak, biting gentle. Mickey shivered, his eyes rolling back in his head. Ian was intoxicated by the taste of Mickey's skin, and he was suddenly overtaken by the urge to mark Mickey from head to toe. He dragged his lips along his hips and stomach, sucking and biting at every bit of flesh he could get his mouth on. He licked along Mickey's rib cage, sucking hard. Mickey groaned, arching into the sensation. Fuck, it felt so good. 

"Mickey, I want you." Ian whispered against Mickey's flushed skin, biting his stomach gently. Mickey hummed in agreement, hooking one of his feet around the back of Ian's thigh, holding him close. 

Mickey was a mess. He could hardly breathe, completely overwhelmed. All he could taste was Ian's tongue, all he could feel was Ian's hands on his body. His mind was empty of all thought besides 'yes' and 'more.' 

God. More. 

"Get up." Mickey said suddenly, pushing Ian off with a hand to his chest. Ian leaned back, breathing heavy, eyebrows raised. "C'mon, the bed is like right there." Mickey wriggled out from under Ian, shooting him a smirk as he sauntered over to the bed, kicking his shoes off and stripping his shirt as he went. 

Ian didn't need to be told twice. He hopped off the couch, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. He followed closely behind Mickey, watching him strip down with wide, hungry eyes. 

Jesus, Mickey had a nice body. Strong, but not overly muscled. His shoulders were pale and broad, smatterings of more abstract tattoos along the expanse of his back. His ass was a thing of beauty, round and firm, jiggling deliciously as he sauntered over to the bed. He bent over, crawling to the center of the mattress, giving Ian a sinful smirk over his shoulder as he arched his back, his whole body on display for Ian. 

Ian's dick jumped, and he was afraid he might come just from the visual alone. He unzipped his pants, shucking them off as quickly as possible, leaving them and his boxers in a puddle by the foot of the bed as he jumped on the mattress, eager to get his hands on Mickey again. 

Mickey laughed as he felt Ian sutured himself to his back. Ian buried his face in Mickey's neck, inhaling deeply. He ran a hand down Mickey's side, fanning his fingers out along his stomach before grabbing his dick. Ian grinned against Mickey's back, slowly stroking Mickey from root to tip. He dragged his fingers along the tip, gathering the precome there. He slid his slicked hand along the shaft slowly, dipping down to cup his balls, squeezing gently. 

"Fuck." Mickey grunted, thrusting into Ian's big hand. "How d'you wanna do this?" Mickey is pretty damn sure how this is going to go down, but he's been wrong before. 

He's begging every god he's ever heard of that he's not wrong this time. He has yet to see Ian's dick, but he can sure as fuck feel it pressed between his ass cheeks, and it would be a damn shame if that beast didn't end up in his ass tonight.

Ian groaned, thrusting gently against Mickey's ass, biting his shoulder. "I wanna fuck you, Mick." Ian moaned, still working Mickey's cock with that tight, slow pressure. "Can I do that? Please?" 

Mickey's face split into a wide smile. Apparently the gods were on his side tonight. 

"Fuck." Mickey sighed, pushing back against Ian's impressive erection. "Yeah. Yeah, you can." 

Ian moaned, loud. He can't believe his luck. His dick has been at maximum capacity for far too long and he can't wait to bury himself inside Mickey's perfect ass. 

Ian stands on his knees, taking a moment to really admire Mickey's thick, juicy ass before gripping him by the hips and flipping him onto his back. 

Mickey yelps in surprise as his back hit the mattress, staring up at Ian with wide, blown out eyes. The manhandling sets a fire inside him, and he's reaching for Ian before he knows what he's doing. He threads his fingers in that gorgeous red hair, pulling Ian down heavily on top of him. 

The kiss is wild, biting. Ian's tongue slips into Mickey's mouth, hard and hungry. Mickey thrusts up, wrapping his leg around Ian's hip. Their hard cocks slide against each other, sending pleasure shooting up Mickey's spine. 

Ian reluctantly pulls away, sitting up on his knees to catch his breath. Mickey stares up at him, eyebrows raised. He licks his lips, already missing the taste of Ian on his tongue. 

"One sec." Ian murmurs, leaning over to pull out the nightstand drawer. When he packed for this weekend, he was certain all he'd get was lazy, uninspired sex with Leo and a few good rounds with his own hand. Now, as his shaking fingers wrap around the lube and condom, he's certain he's in for the fuck of his life. 

He drops the supplies onto the bedspread and returns to Mickey, who was tracking his every move with hunger in his eyes. Ian smiled down at him, dipping his head down for another kiss. 

Mickey ramped it up immediately, holding Ian close as he licked into his mouth passionately. He chased Ian when he pulled back, but Ian just shook his head, smiling. Ian hovered over Mickey, smiling as he made his slow descent down his body. He kissed his way across his chest, circling his tongue along one nipple and then the other. Every gasp and sigh that slipped past Mickey's lips went straight to Ian's dick. He was leaking all over the comforter, his cock aching almost painfully. 

But he could wait. He had a plan and he was going to stick to it. He had this desperate urge to show Mickey how bad he wanted him. He wanted Mickey to know, in no uncertain terms, how sexy he was in Ian's eyes. He wanted to reduce Mickey to a quivering mess of pleasure and desire. 

"Fuck." Mickey whispered, pinching his eye shut as Ian dug his teeth into his hipbone. His eyes rolled back in his head as Ian nipped along his stomach, his chin brushing Mickey's raging hard on. "Ian." 

Holy shit. The way Mickey said his name had Ian's hair standing on end. That desperate shudder in his voice, his whole body practically vibrating with need. Ian had wanted to drag this out. Tease and play. But Mickey was fucking shaking, pulling Ian's hair, and whining. Ian had no defense. 

"Ian. Please." 

That was it. Ian was done. He grabbed the lube off the blanket, propping himself up on his elbow so he could lube up the fingers on his free hand. He ran his fingers in slow circles around Mickey's rim, still mouthing at his thighs. He was intoxicated by his scent, utterly enthralled by his taste. 

Mickey was breathing heavy, watching Ian's movements with rapt attention. He chest heaved in anticipation as Ian sat up on his knees and bent over his body, one hand poised between his legs, the other coming up to curl around Mickey's erection. Ian pumped him slowly, almost experimentally, before closing his lips around the head and sucking gently. 

"Oh fuck." Mickey groaned, head lolling back as Ian swallowed him down. Ian bobbed his head, taking Mickey a little bit deeper with each pass. Mickey sucked in a sharp breath, and Ian's chest swelled with animalistic pride. He backed off, swirling his tongue along the head before dragging the muscle up and down down the shaft painfully slowly. He prodded gently at Mickey's rim, hopefully relaxing Mickey in the process. He watched through his wet eyelashes as Mickey's head fell back against the pillows, succumbing fully to the pleasure of the moment. 

Ian took Mickey deep into his throat, swallowing around him convulsively as he breached him with a single finger. 

Mickey jumped, groaning. "I don't need much prep, man." he said, voice hoarse. "Just want you in me." 

That was music to Ian's ears. One day soon, he'd take his time like he wanted to, pulling Mickey apart slowly, learning all the things that got him off. But right now, Ian's dick felt like it was going to explode, and he was desperate to get inside Mickey. He sucked him off for a few more minutes, savoring Mickey's taste on his tongue, the way he stretched his lips wide and filled his throat. He fingered him slowly, reveling in the needy noises pouring out of Mickey's mouth as he writhed under Ian's ministrations. 

Mickey's dying, he's sure of it. His body is on fire, covered in sweat. His dick is so hard, feels so good inside Ian's tight, wet mouth. Ian's long fingers move inside him, only serving to amp him up further. It's not enough. He needs Ian inside him. He's legitimately scared he's going to come and ruin everything. "Ian, c'mon man. Please." Mickey doesn't beg. Never. But in this moment, his brain has gone offline, leaving him adrift in a sea of need. 

Ian pulls off, sitting up on his knees again. He wipes his fingers on the bedspread, then wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He grabs the condom, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it down his rigid dick. He slicks himself up liberally, fantasizing the whole time about a moment in the near future when he can fuck Mickey raw, really feel him. 

Because that day will come, Ian is certain of it. 

Once he's slippery with lube he once again wipes his hands on the sheets before grabbing Mickey's leg and hitching it up over his shoulder. He presses his erection against Mickey's stretched hole, but pauses at the last second. "Is this cool?" he asks, albeit belatedly. "I just really wanna see you." 

Mickey nods, giving Ian a shy smile. This is another thing he doesn't do. Fuck face to face. It's just so disgustingly intimate, and that is not Mickey's thing at all. But Ian is looking at him like he's something amazing, and Mickey doesn't want to change a single thing about this moment. He ran his fingers through Ian's hair, pulling the strands between his fingers as their lips met in a ravenous kiss. Ian settled heavily over Mickey's body, his fingers digging into the meat of his hip as he slowly rocked forward, sheathing himself agonizingly slowly, savoring every inch. 

The pressure was intense. Mickey pinched his eyes shut, relaxing into the stretch. That sweet, all consuming burn. Ian was fucking huge, stretching him wide as he buried himself to the hilt. 

"Oh my god." Ian moaned, shimmying his hips. "Fucking tight, Mick. Jesus." He laid heavy on Mickey, still pinning his leg over his shoulder. Mickey was pulsing around him, breathing hard against his neck, and Ian was just so overwhelmed. He needed a minute. 

"Ian." Mickey whispered, biting his shoulder. "Fucking move." 

Ian chuckled, utterly smitten with the man beneath him. He pulled out almost all the way, slamming back home with enough force to knock the headboard against the wall. Mickey's whole body spasmed, his fingers digging into Ian's ass as he rolled his hips. He started out slowly, luxuriating in the feeling. But before long he was moving faster, rocking harder. Mickey cried out, his thigh shaking on Ian's hip. 

"Oh god. Ian." Mickey bit out, surrendering to Ian entirely as he reduced Mickey to a moaning mess. Ian slammed into Mickey's tight body again and again, desperate to pull more of those sexy noises from his lover. 

Ian planted his free hand above Mickey's head, curling the other one around to cup Mickey's tight ass as he rolled his hips. He pounded into Mickey roughly, chasing the delicious friction building between them. 

Mickey moaned, scraping his nails down Ian's back, earning himself a pained grunt from the man above him. 

"Fuck, you feel good." Mickey sighed, rocking with Ian. He twined his free heel higher on Ian's back, pulling him deeper. He could feel Ian everywhere, and it was overwhelming in the best way. Ian's fingers digging into his ass cheek, Ian's mouth sucking hickies onto his neck, Ian's cock hitting so deep inside him, Mickey saw stars with every thrust. Ian was all consuming, and Mickey was happy to be devoured. 

Ian could feel his orgasm building, burning in his stomach. He dropped Mickey's leg from his shoulder as he fell down on his elbow, reaching for Mickey's cock, leaking against his stomach. Ian wrapped his fingers around his dick, thumbing the head as he stroked him in time with his thrusts. 

"God, this ass." Ian moaned, precariously close to coming. "Fucking amazing. You're amazing." 

"Ian. Shit, fuck." Mickey moaned, his back arching off the bed as he came hard all over Ian's hand and his own chest. 

"So fucking sexy." Ian whispered, releasing Mickey's spent cock and curling his arm under his body. They were pressed tight together, breathing into each other mouths as Ian chased his own orgasm. He thrust into Mickey fervently, his skin burning everywhere they touched. Mickey was grunting into Ian's mouth, his eyes closed, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. That look is what drove Ian over the edge. Mickey's open, sated expression gave Ian the most intense orgasm he's had in ages. His body went tight, his eyes rolling back in his head as he stilled deep inside Mickey, coming so hard his vision cut out. 

They laid intertwined for a moment, catching their breath and waiting for their hearts to calm down. Ian knew he was smiling like an idiot, but Mickey was grinning right back. Ian huffed, patting Mickey's ass affectionately and rolling off him. He landed on his back, breathing hard and sweating.

Mickey took a moment to collect himself before jumping up off the bed and moving toward his clothes. 

"You leavin'?" Ian asked, propping himself up on his elbows. He was unable to hide the nervous lilt to his voice. Had he been reading Mickey wrong this whole time? Was this just a fuck to him? 

Mickey pauses, his jeans in his hands. "Um, do you want me to?" 

"No." Ian shook his head, sitting up. "You just got up so fast, and went for your clothes." Ian motioned toward Mickey's pants, painfully aware of how insecure he sounded in the moment. 

Mickey shook his head, laughing, as he pulled out his cigarette pack and sauntered over to the bed. "Just need a smoke after all that." he waved the cigarette in Ian's face, lighting it and jumping back into bed next to Ian. "You're not getting rid of me that easy." 

Ian smiled, his whole being flooding with relief. " Good. I had such an amazing time today. Thank you." He gripped the used condom, slipping it off his dick and tossing it in the bin by the bed before falling gracelessly against the pillows, grinning at Mickey like a lunatic. 

Mickey smirked, blowing smoke over his head before passing the butt to Ian. "Don't thank me. I wanted to. Honestly, this is the first time I've ever done anything like this. I was never into Valentine's day, or dating in general. Just didn't feel like it was for me." 

Ian's smile faded, his gaze softening. "Why not?"

Mickey shrugged. "Cuz most people are assholes. I don't really have the patience to put up with a guy's stupid bullshit just to have dick on tap. Y'know?" 

"Oh." Ian deflated, looking out the window in a sad attempt to avoid Mickey's eyes. 

"Ian." Mickey laughed, gripping Ian under his chin and turning his head so they were eye to eye again. "I'm shit at explaining this stuff, but what I'm trying to say is that I think you're worth it." Mickey bit his lip, unsure of himself. He's never had to have this conversation before. "I know we just met, but this shit with you is easy. Just being together like this. I don't feel like I need pretend with you, which is a rare fucking thing." 

"I hear that." Ian smiled, inching closer to Mickey on the bed. "I felt like I had to edit my personality the whole time I was with Leo. Like I had to play this part. I hated that shit." 

"Well, I think you're pretty fucking cool just the way you are." Mickey grinned. 

"You may not think that once you get to know me better." Ian said, sadness swelling inside him. He had so much dark shit. Shit he never told Leo. Shit he's scared to tell anyone. He's embarrassed and ashamed by his past. But if he wants to do this thing with Mickey right, he's going to have to be honest. But not tonight. They're not there yet. 

"Hey man, it's all good." Mickey replied quietly. "I've got my fair share of shit too. We can talk about that another time, though, right?" 

Ian grinned, knocking his forehead against Mickey's. "You read my mind." 

Mickey smiled back, nodding. He really hoped Ian stuck around long enough for them to get to know each other. He's never had that before. Someone he could totally let his guard down around. The thought of opening up like that terrifies him, but he more concerned by the fact that he's willing to risk it for this man. He's actually contemplating bearing his twisted, broken soul to a man he just met. 

What is happening to him? 

Whatever it is, he's surprise to find he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all. 

"Mick, I really like you." Ian says lowly, his expression serious. "Did you maybe wanna see where this goes when we get back to Chicago? I'm not ready for this to end." 

Mickey laughed, relieved to find he's not the only one having these feelings. 

"Well, I sure as fuck hope you're not done." Mickey chuckled. "Like I told you, I don't do this shit. If I'm gonna do it, I wanna do it right. If you want, you can come with me to see Jared's cousin's band next Friday. Dex and Jarod will be there too, so be prepared for more of their stupid bullshit." Mickey's never asked anyone out on a date before, but if Ian's grin is anything to go by, he's not totally tanking it. 

"Yeah?" Ian asked, unable to hide his excitement. "I'd really like that." 

"Just warning you, the band's not that good. But we'll drink for free, so there's that." 

Ian laughed, opening his mouth to speak, but they're interrupted by a knock on the door. He and Mickey exchange a glance, and when Mickey just shrugs, Ian hops off the bed and pulls on a pair sweats. He opens the door, surprised to find one of the resort staff standing on the other side. The man has a bottle of champagne and a small white box in his hands. 

"Mr. Gallagher?" he asks with a smile. 

"Um, yeah." Ian replies, confused. He can feel Mickey standing behind him now. Mickey's hand curls around Ian's hip and Ian melts into the simple touch. 

God, he's so gone. 

The man at the door hands Ian the bottle and the box. "With compliments of the Laheys." he gives Ian and Mickey a little nod, stepping away and down the path. 

Mickey grabs the bottle, reading the label. Bollinger, not bad stuff. 

"The Laheys?" Ian asks, confused. He follows Mickey back to the living room. Mickey drops on the couch, handing the bottle back to Ian. 

"My bosses. Aaron and Jace Lahey." Mickey replied, just as confused as Ian. "What the hell?" 

Ian gripped the champagne, placing the bottle between his legs and popping the top. He laughed when liquid shot out of the top, bringing the bottle to his lips before he could spill too much. He took a long, satisfying sip, humming. It's been a while since he's had good champagne. "Look in the box, maybe?" 

Mickey slips the red ribbon off the box, opening the top and looking inside. His brow furrows, and he glances up at Ian. "Fucking chocolate covered strawberries?" he took one out, looking at it like it may give him some insight. Ian plucked it from his hand, taking a bite. He moaned, smiling. 

"Shit, Mick. These are fucking delicious." 

"Ruining perfectly good chocolate with fucking fruit." Mickey groused, grinning at Ian when he lost his shit laughing. "You laughing at me, Red?" 

Ian just hummed, taking another sip off the bottle in his lap. 

Mickey moved to close the box when his eyes caught on an envelope wedged against the edge of the box. He plucked the note from the box, setting the strawberries on the table so he could open the letter. 

"What the fuck?" he was beyond confused now. 

Ian scooted closer to him on the couch, placing the champagne next to the strawberries. "Read it." he said, not bothering to mask his curiosity. 

Mickey glanced up at Ian, giving him a small smile before he fixed his eyes on Aaron's loopy handwriting. 

"Mickey, you know what they say: the most vehement non-believers make the most powerful converts. We wish you and Ian all the luck in the world. Love, Aaron and Jace." 

"What does that mean?" Ian asked, plucking the card out of Mickey's hands so he can read it himself. 

"You know what? Why don't we polish off this booze and go back to bed?" Mickey laughed. His bosses were something else. They were obviously delighted with Mickey's abrupt about-face regarding Valentine's day. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, over coffee." 

"That sounds good." Ian grinned. He closed the small distance between them, cupping the side of Mickey's face. Ian kissed him so softly, just a hint of tongue. But it felt like Mickey's whole world was tipping on it's axis. 

Ian pulled back, but kept his hand on Mickey's face, rubbing his thumb along his blushing cheek. "You know, if I'd known I was going to find you there, I would have been hitting up the bars this whole time." 

Mickey shook his head, smiling. "Nah. I'm glad we met like this. The bars serve their purpose, but I think the really good shit happens between the bars." Mickey wrapped his hand around the back of Ian's neck, pulling their foreheads together. "It's those quite, in between moments that matter in the end." 

Ian's whole face lit up, his smile wide and bright. "Yeah, I think you're right." 

They share another kiss, slow and sweet. Mickey feels like he's melting. Dissolving entirely under the heat of Ian's close proximity. 

Mickey's been living his life between the bars forever now, but for the first time in a long time, he finds himself excited for something beyond the pulsing lights and undulating bodies. Something beyond the illusion of club life. Looking into Ian's hopeful green eyes, Mickey is excited for something very real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these Vday fics were so much fun for me. i'm glad i decided to do these. hope you enjoyed them as much as i did.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the elliott smith song 'between the bars' 
> 
> "drink up baby, look at the stars. i'll kiss you again, between the bars. where i'm seeing you there, with your hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught." 
> 
> if you are not familiar, check him out. he's been the inspiration behind a lot of my gallavich works.


End file.
